I'll Wait For Love's Sake
by mojo-nojo
Summary: "And just like that, I'm having sex with Bellamy Blake. One of my good friends. A man who I didn't think I ever had a chance with. A man who is engaged to my best friend." A drunk Clarke Griffin sleeps with her best friend's fiancé on the eve of her 30th birthday, and things will never be the same. Based on Emily Giffin's novel "Something Borrowed."
1. Surprise

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N:** This is an AU story based on the novel "Something Borrowed" by the wonderful Emily Giffin, so if you've read the book (or seen the film with the same name) then it will seem familiar in parts. I've always loved the book and for some reason the visual of the characters of 'The 100' being in this world got stuck in my head and it wouldn't come out until I wrote it down. So fine, Muse! You won.

This is my first time delving in to the world of 'The 100' so I'm pretty excited. The show lately has been super angsty (because of course it has been), so I decided to write a light(er)-hearted story. I feel like we need more of those for the upcoming episodes. Also I'm still relatively new to the world of fanfiction (and I don't have a beta for this story) so bear with me!

**CHAPTER ONE**

I can still remember the first time I wanted to turn thirty. It was when I was nine years old, and my mother had just forbid me to watch the movie _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ with my best friend, Raven Reyes. We had stumbled across it while flipping through channels during one of our many sleepover parties (really, they weren't "parties" as much as just the two of us hanging out at each other's houses basically every weekend). Raven had all but snatched the remote controller out of my hands when she saw the beginning of the gory film.

"Stop! Stop!" she had screeched, grabbing the pillow she was leaning on and clutching it tighter to her body. "Oh, man…"

"What?" I had asked.

"We _have_ to watch this. Harper from school said she saw this with her older brother and it was _so disgusting_ she couldn't sleep for a week!"

"Disgusting?" I whispered, just barely glancing at the TV screen, suddenly on edge.

"Yeah," Raven breathed, her eyes already glued. When I was brave enough, I turned back to the screen. So far, there was nothing _disgusting_ happening. But if Harper couldn't sleep for a week, it was bound to get worse.

Just when Leatherface was about to attack one of the girls in the creepy house, my mother appeared, and she scared us both more than the film had.

"What are you watching?" she said sternly, as if she already knew the answer. Of course she did; Abby Griffin never asked a question she didn't know the answer to.

Raven and I had screamed so loud we spilled our bowl of popcorn all over my bedroom floor. Raven was the first to recover.

"Nothing, Mrs. Griffin! We were just trying to find something to watch!"

My mother's face softened a bit at her words. She always had a soft spot for my best friend, ever since we became friends in kindergarten and I told her that Raven's parents died in a car accident and she had to go live with her aunt.

"Funny, because it looks like you two were watching something that you're definitely not old enough for." She walked up to my side of the bed and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off.

"Aw, come on, Mrs. G! It's not _that_ big of a deal. It's just a movie." Raven pushed her bottom lip out, making a pouty face that my mother ate up any chance she got.

My mom chuckled. "A movie that will give you two nightmares. Trust me, when I saw that-" She gestured to the blank TV screen with the remote. "-in the theater with your father, I was a wreck."

"Mr. G took you to see _that?"_ Raven scrunched up her face.

"It was our second date."

"Oh, no!" Raven grabbed her pillow again and pulled it over her face, laughing. My mom smiled warmly.

"So, when _can_ we watch movies like that, then?" I interjected, mildly irritated.

My mom thought about it for a few moments. When she made a decision, she smirked and handed me the remote. "When you're thirty. That sounds safe." Smoothing my fair hair out of my eyes, she gave Raven one more smile (because of _course_ she did) and left my room.

Raven sat up and folded her legs underneath her. "Ha! Thirty? That sounds like forever from now." She gave me a teasing look. "Maybe by then you won't be such a scaredy-cat and actually _watch_ the movie!"

"Hey! I was watching it just like you were!"

"Sure you were." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "That's why your blanket was suddenly _so interesting_ to you whenever there was a scary part about to happen!" Laughing, she kicked her legs out and laid down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. She was quiet for a few moments before she nudged my leg with her sock-covered foot.

"What?" I said grumpily.

"What do you think being thirty will be like?" Raven asked in a low voice.

I scrunched my nose for a few seconds, then shrugged. "I don't know. Just look at my mom. She's thirty-something."

"She is?"

"I think so," I mumbled. I found a thread sticking out of my blanket and began to pick at it. "She got a toaster for her birthday. My dad got it for her. She seemed to like it."

"A toaster?" Raven laughed again. She likes doing that, laughing.

Another moment of silence. "Well, since you're older than me, you'll have to let me know what it's like before I turn thirty, too!"

"I'm only a few months older," I said under my breath. My birthday was in May, Raven's in October.

"Pffft!" Raven sat back up and grabbed the remote out of my hand. "Whatever, Clarke, let's watch something before I die of boredom."

We dropped the subject after that, but when Raven settled on an episode of _The Fresh Prince of Bel Air,_ I couldn't get it out of my head. As a nine year old, the thought of turning thirty sounded so foreign, so strange. It was something I couldn't fathom; a year that sounded like it was from a science fiction novel. Maybe there would be flying cars and hover boards, like Marty McFly got to ride on. Nine-year-old me thought that was awesome, so I couldn't wait to turn thirty.

However, here I am now, twenty-nine years old, and all I want to do is hide under the covers of my bed and stay twenty-nine forever.

I am standing in front of The Ark, a bar that my friends and I frequent whenever we have a free night. Clutching the strap of my purse so tight my knuckles are turning white, I take a deep breath and step off the curb and begin to cross the street.

I let out a loud yelp when a taxi speeds by, just missing me by a few feet. The driver lays on the horn, screaming some angry, indiscernible words out the window.

I only just get my heartbeat back to normal when someone comes up behind me and gets it racing once more.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that was simply an accident. But since you're turning thirty…"

I turn sharply on my heel and give the man behind me a disapproving glare. He raises his hands up in mock surrender.

"Whoa, okay, sorry. My mistake; you're stoked about turning thirty. How could I miss that?"

"You really need to shut up, Jasper."

Jasper Jordan, one of my best and oldest friends, simply gives me a big smile and an even bigger hug. "How are you doing, Clarke?"

"Dreading this horrible night, how about you?"

"Oh, come on," Jasper runs his hand through his dark hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "You can't call this night horrible before you even step through the door!"

"Sure I can," I shrug.

"Come on, believe it or not, thirty is not that bad. I, for one, have been thirty for a whole _ten weeks_, and lemme tell ya, it's great."

"Didn't you break up with your fiancée?" I spit out without thinking. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I immediately regret them, my eyes widening. "Shit. Jas, I'm sorry –"

Jasper raises one of his hands, palm up, and I bite my lips closed. "No need," he says simply, a wry smile gracing his lips. "Now, come on, isn't tonight supposed to be us drowning in _your_ misery?"

"Hardy har," I mumble under my breath, letting Jasper guide me (safely) across the street and into The Ark.

When we enter, the lights are shut completely off. It is mildly disorienting at first, and I grab for Jasper's arm. "What the hell –?"

"SURPRISE!" Suddenly the lights snap on and Jasper and I both jerk our heads back, our eyes trying to get used to the sudden influx. Blinking quickly, I see that there are dozens of people standing in front of me, wide smiles on their faces and drinks in hand. A giant banner hangs over the bar with bold, block letters spelling out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CLARKE!" A few people even throw their arms in the air, letting go of handfuls of confetti that they had clutched in their hands.

I turn to Jasper and watch as the green and blue confetti lands in his floppy hair. He turns to me as well with a small smirk. Glaring at him, I am about to ask what the hell he was thinking, giving me a surprise birthday party with _way_ more people than I originally thought, when I hear a loud shriek come from behind the wall of guests.

Jasper laughs at my shocked face. "Like you really thought that I was the one that set this whole thing up?"

Before I have a chance to respond, a tall, thin woman with dark complexion and even darker hair barrels into me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. She's vibrating with excitement; rocking on the balls of her feet and gushing in my ear.

"Oh, my gosh, Clarke, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Did you like the surprise? Oh, I hope you did, it took me _forever_ to get this set up for you! I hope you like it!" She pulls away and looks into my eyes, her hands still clutching my shoulders. "So were you surprised?"

I let out a sharp exhale, smiling as truthfully as I could. "Of course I was. I love it, Raven."

She squeals at this, clapping her hands and kissing my cheek. She turns to the rest of the party. "She loves it!" she screams, and the crowd cheers. Jasper makes quick eye contact with me and makes a funny face, sticking his tongue out and squinting. I elbow him quick in the stomach and he lets out a harsh grunt. Raven turns back to me and finally seems to notice Jasper. "Oh."

"Hey, Raven. Long time, no see. How long's it been, two weeks? How you been, girl?" Jasper slings his arm across my shoulders, and I give him a look that tells him I will hit him in the stomach again. Seeing this, he pulls away slightly, smirking.

Raven puts on a bright smile and her eyebrows raise to almost her hairline. This is the look she gives to people she doesn't like, but tries to be nice to anyway. "Jasper! I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, Clarke's birthday. Her best friend in the entire world. Of course my presence would be a big question mark." Raven's eyebrows raise even higher at this, if that is at all possible. I close my eyes tight.

"Hmmm," she bites her lip and turns back to me. "Why do you still not have a drink? Come on!" She grabs my arm by the crook of my elbow and pulls me to the bar, leaving Jasper behind. I turn and give him an apologetic look, and he simply shrugs, one side of his mouth tipping up.

Making our way to the bar, Raven is pushing people out of the way, but doing so in such a way that people are apologizing to her.

"Move, please! _Move!_ Best friend of the birthday girl coming through!"

When we finally make it to the bar, Raven orders two martinis with extra olives and gives the bartender a sultry smile, which of course he returns in kind. I scoff softly, but she catches it. Turning to me, she gives me a flirty smile. "What? I can't enjoy the view?"

"You have a fiancé, don't you?"

Raven smiles widely, grabbing the martinis the bartender places in front of us. He hovers for a few moments, his eyes never leaving Raven, but she's not paying him any attention. Frowning, he finally turns away and moves on to the next customer.

"Like I said, I can't enjoy the view?" Raven gives me a wink over her martini glass, slowly perusing the dance floor. I only get one sip in when I see her place her now empty glass down on the bar with a _clack_. I raise my eyebrows at this. "You want another?" I ask, gesturing to the empty glass.

Raven waves her hand at me, a sign of dismissal. "I'm fine for now. I had a jump start, what with you getting here late." She turns to give me a hard stare.

I sigh softly. "I'm sorry, Raven. Work was a bitch today." She clucks her tongue at this.

"Work. Work is always a bitch to you, isn't it?" She taps her finger to her lips for a moment.

"Well, today was especially difficult. I'm dealing with this patient who –"

"On second thought, I think I will have another." Cutting me off, Raven turns back to the bar and like magic, the bartender is back and leaning against the counter, invading our space. I pull away slightly, but Raven basks in the attention.

Smiling her trademark sexy smile, Raven slides her long dark hair behind her bare shoulder, and the bartender follows the motion. Knowing she has him in the palm of her hand, Raven lets out a soft giggle. "Hello again, Mr. –" She squints at his nametag. "—Wick. Do you have time to make a girl another quick drink?"

"I've got all the time in the world for you," the bartender named Wick replies, flashing a wide smile to match Raven's. She giggles again. I turn away to take another drink of my martini, rolling my eyes.

"I'm going to make the rounds," I say into Raven's ear. Still smiling at the bartender, she doesn't respond. Sighing, I grab my purse off the bar and head toward the area where I saw Jasper last. I need a serious buffer tonight, since half the people here aren't even my friends, but Raven's.

I am just about to give up on Jasper and slip into the bathroom when I suddenly run into something hard and firm. Scratch that, some_one._

"Shit! I'm sor –" My voice dies in my throat when I look up and see who it is.

Bellamy Blake, Raven's fiancé.

**A/N: **Reviews are greatly appreciated, of course. I'd love to hear what you think!


	2. Party

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **Okay, raise your hand if you feel personally victimized by the last few episodes of 'The 100'. *raises both hands* Great, I'm not alone. But we will get through this, fandom. We will prevail!

Once again, I have no beta, so any mistakes are all mine (I say that like I'm proud or something. Sheesh).

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Bellamy," I choke out.

He is clutching my arm, his fingers digging softly into the crook of my elbow. He has a look that is a mix of concern and amusement. Smiling, his thumb begins to slowly caress the inside of my elbow, and I can't help but shiver slightly.

When I remember the feel of Raven's fingers clutching that same spot just minutes ago, I pull my arm away a bit harsher than I intend. I cover the act by coughing in my free hand and giving Bellamy an apologetic smile.

"Clarke," he begins, tilting his head slightly. "Trying to escape so soon?"

I let out a quick laugh that sounds more like an exhale. "You caught me."

"I tried to tell Raven that a surprise party with a shit-ton of people was probably not the best idea, but you know Raven…" he trails off, taking a sip of his beer.

"Yeah," I watch him drink, slightly mesmerized by the movement of his Adam's apple when he swallows. "I know Raven." Clearing my throat, I take a big gulp of my martini.

"Actually," I begin, and Bellamy turns back to me. "I was trying to find Jasper, have you seen him?"

He frowns, looking like he was trying to backtrack in his mind. "I haven't seen him, no. But I'm sure he's around. He wouldn't bail on you."

"Probably because he knows I would kick his ass if he did." I say dryly. Bellamy laughs at this, deep and rich, and I can't help but smile at the sound.

"A terrifying thought," he says, taking another drink.

We stand together in comfortable silence for a few moments, just drinking and enjoying each other's company. I watch Raven finally pull herself away from the bar and head to the middle of the dance floor, another martini in hand. The DJ plays a song that's popular in the clubs nowadays, and Raven lets out a loud _whoop!_ Some of the dancers make a small circle around her when she begins her dance, arms in the air and hips swaying. Her skin has a soft sheen of sweat and her hair is tumbling down her back in waves. All the men in the room can't take their eyes off of her and the women know this. They also can't take their eyes off of her, but their looks are ones of envy. One brave man makes his way through the crowd and plugs himself into Raven's lewd dance. Laughing, she yells out the name "Charlie!" and wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him close. The man named Charlie laughs too, his hands on her hips.

For some reason I feel a flush of embarrassment for Bellamy, and I sneak a glance his way to see his reaction to Raven's antics. He smiles a tight-lipped smile at the show on the dance floor, shrugging and taking another sip of beer. Only this one seems more like a chug than a sip.

He turns away from the dance floor and faces me. "So, how's the hospital?"

"Oh," I glance back at the dance floor. There are more couples gyrating to the music, and it's harder to see Raven and the guy she's dancing with. Since she knew his name, he's probably a guy from her work. At least he's not a stranger. "The hospital is fine. Hectic, but fine." I wet my dry tongue with another sip of gin. "I'm up for Chief Resident."

Bellamy's eyes widen at this. "Chief Resident. Damn, Clarke, that's great!" He gives my hand a congratulatory squeeze, and I notice his eyes slide to the dance floor. "You'll get it, no sweat. No one else holds a candle to you at that place."

I laugh at this. "And you know this because?"

"Because I know you." The look he pins me with is so strong I feel like he's looking straight through me. Squirming slightly under his gaze, I hide it with another smile and begin to eat the olives that are resting at the bottom of my glass. I glance down and notice his glass is empty. I am about to ask if he wants a refill when I hear someone yell Bellamy's name. He turns.

"Hey, Finn!"

A dark-haired man appears next to Bellamy. He looks to be a few inches shorter than him, but still fit. His hair keeps falling in his eyes, and it looks to be a habit for him to push it back. His dark brown eyes are warm and his smile sweet. I can't help but smile whenever he does; it's contagious.

"Clarke, this is an old buddy of mine, Finn. Finn, this is Clarke. We went to medical school together."

"Ah, the infamous Clarke!" Finn holds out his hand for me to shake. He has a firm grip and his hands are warm. It makes me wonder if he's warm all over. This thought makes my face heat up. "Bellamy's told me a lot about you."

"Has he?" I turn to Bellamy and raise my eyebrows. He simply shrugs, not making eye contact.

"And judging by the look on your face he hasn't once mentioned me, has he?" Finn turns to Bellamy and shakes his head. "What an asshole."

I laugh at this a little too hard, and both men turn to stare. I try to hide my embarrassment by eating more olives. I curse my fair complexion, hoping the poor lighting in the bar hides my flaming cheeks. _What is wrong with me?_

"Well –" I swallow quickly. "Now that you mention it, I think he has mentioned you before. Old high school buddies, right?"

"Yes!" Finn does a fist bump in the air. I smile. "I gave this kid hell for four years. I think he befriended me so I would stop."

"Hell?" I ask.

"He always kicked my ass in basketball," Bellamy explains, leaning in close. I clear my throat. "I was sick of it, so I asked him to be on my team for once."

"And no one stood a chance," Finn finishes, slapping Bellamy on the shoulder. "Hey, so a few of the guys are gonna head out soon, hit up this new bar downtown. Apparently it's Monty's new place, and he _swears_ it's the shit."

"Bailing on my party already?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. Once again, I feel the heat. _Damn it. _

Finn smiles, but it's different than the ones before. This one makes me feel lightheaded. "Gonna miss me, Princess?"

"Princess?" I ask, caught off guard. It takes me a few seconds to figure it out. "No, you didn't Bellamy!"

"What?" Bellamy asks innocently, even though his face screams guilty.

"That was _one_ Halloween!"

"Yes, but it was a memorable one," Bellamy sighs wistfully, like he is remembering it all over again. I punch him in the arm. "Ow!"

"Jerk," I mumble.

"I heard you were beautiful, Your Highness," Finn laughs.

I give him a look. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't. But hearing about it and seeing you now, I just assumed."

I inhale sharply as he smiles again, and once again it is infectious and I can't help but reciprocate it.

"Anyway," Finn turns back to Bellamy. "Monty's. In about an hour?" He gives Bellamy a playful pout and Bellamy shakes his head.

"Not tonight, dude. I have some things to do."

Finn turns to look at the bar, where Raven decided to climb on and dance there instead of the dance floor. "Ah," he says simply.

With one last clap on the shoulder and a "good luck" to boot, Finn flashes me a smile and disappears back into the crowd.

Sighing heavily, Bellamy drags a hand over his face, a nervous habit I first noticed in college. "I really should –"

"Yeah, of course." I gesture to the bar with my empty martini glass. He gives me an apologetic smile.

Without taking his eyes off of her, he heads toward the bar where Raven is swaying along to the music, laughing and spilling her full martini.

_That's probably her fourth one since I got here,_ I think to myself.

I am about to follow Bellamy to the bar when I'm stopped by a petite brunette. It takes me a second to recognize her, but when I do, I let out a surprised laugh.

"Octavia!" I pull the young woman into a hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still in LA!"

"Like I could miss this milestone birthday!" I groan at this and she laughs. She squeezes me back tight before pulling back, a smile that makes her look just like her brother. "I flew in a few hours ago. I'm using your birthday as an excuse, but seriously, I just missed you. It's been _years._"

I smooth her soft, dark hair behind her ear. "It hasn't been _years,_ just _a_ year."

"Potato, po_tah_to." Octavia waves a hand in the air. I laugh.

"Does Bellamy know you're here?"

"Nope, I'm a surprise all around." She looks around the bar. "Where is he anyway?"

I point to the bar, where Bellamy is trying to corral Raven off the counter. Octavia huffs. "Figures," she mumbles.

"It's been a long night."

"It's 10 freakin' 30!" she argues. "If that's a long night, then the girl needs help in the worst way."

"O…"

"No joke, why did you introduce them again?"

I sigh, thinking about the night Raven and Bellamy met, all those years ago. It was in The Ark, of all places. Bellamy and I had just finished a full week of studying for the USMLE, or the United States Medical Licensing Exam that medical students take after their first two years, and we were beyond exhausted. Even though we both felt this, Bellamy still wanted to head to The Ark and grab some beers. It was a "thank you" beer, he said, for being there for him and helping him out with the hell that is the USLME's.

"Please," I had said, laughing when we both walked into the bar. "You helped me out as much as I did, if not more. So really, _I _should be the one to buy you a drink."

"Well, I won't complain about a free beer." He waggled his eyebrows at me and I laughed even harder, the lack of sleep getting to me.

He nodded to an empty booth, telling me without words to grab it and he'd get the drinks. Nodding, I head to the booth and slipped in, taking my jacket off and settling in. Soon enough, he came with two bottles of Blue Moon.

"Nice," I hissed out, smiling. "My fave."

Bellamy simply hummed softly, taking a long swig and placing his bottle on the coaster.

"So," he began, taking his own jacket off and doing his trademark head tilt. All through medical school he would give me a soft smile and a head tilt whenever he was going to ask a question. I soon learned to love it. "Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Like what?" I asked, taking another drink.

"Like…" he trailed off. "What made you want to be a doctor?"

"Surgeon," I corrected, pointing at him with my beer.

"Of course."

"I don't know," I said, peeling the label off my beer. "Probably because of my mother. She's a surgeon. It was just expected of me."

Bellamy didn't say anything for a moment, just took a slow drink and gave me a look that almost said _I don't believe you._

"Nah, I can't see that as being the only reason," he said, smirking. "You love helping people. I've seen it."

"Well," I said lamely, ending it at that. "What about you?"

Bellamy's smile faltered for a moment, but he caught himself and the smile came back so quickly I had no idea if I imagined it or not. "Oh, you know. Helping people."

"Lame," I accused, laughing once again. "Come on."

"Okay, okay," he raised his hands up in mock surrender. "For my mom."

My smile faded at this. "Your mom?"

"Yep." He left it at that.

Silence surrounded the booth for a moment before I couldn't take it anymore. "Is she… okay?" I mentally kicked myself, the words sounding idiotic the moment they left my mouth.

He let out a humorless laugh at that, glaring hard at his beer bottle. I bit my lip. "Never mind. I'm sorry, let's just drop –"

"No, shit Clarke, I'm sorry. This is supposed to be a celebratory beer, not a sob fest." He ran his hand over his face, covering his mouth for a moment before dropping his arm. "My fault, I brought it up."

He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Without thinking, I reached across the booth and placed my hand over his, my thumb running across his knuckles.

I heard his quick intake of breath and my own got caught in my throat. I looked up to see his eyes burning into my own. My brain told me to look away, but I couldn't. It was like were stuck in this bubble, and all the noise of the bar and the surrounding voices faded away, and it was just us. I felt his hand clench underneath mine, and I instinctively squeezed harder.

Bellamy swallowed loudly. "Clarke –"

"There you are!"

Like an electric shock coursed through my body, I jerked my hand back. For a wild moment, it looked like Bellamy was going to reach across the table and grab it back, but the moment passed, and he had a blank face on instead of his intense gaze. I quickly took a long gulp of my beer.

Raven chose this moment to plop into the booth, right next to Bellamy. A large smile on her face, she pulled her jacket off and flung it across the booth so it landed in the empty space beside me. "Ugh, thank God I found you, traffic was a bitch and I was about to bail on your ass." She glanced around the bar, wrinkling her nose. "Seriously? _This_ is your favorite bar? What about Couture? Now that place is hoppin'." Raven looked around the bar until she spotted a server walking around.

"Excuse me? Excuse me," she waved the server over. "Could you be a dear and get us, what?" She turned to look at me and I shrugged. Sighing, Raven turned back to the server. "Get us three shots of your best tequila. Salt and limes, too, please!" When the server escaped behind the bar, Raven turned to Bellamy, who was staring at her with an incredulous look the whole time.

"Well, hello there, stranger," Raven flipped her hair behind her shoulder, and I immediately recognized that action: She was definitely interested.

"Hello," Bellamy said with a hint of a question in his voice, turning towards me with eyebrows raised.

"Raven, this is Bellamy. Bellamy, this is my best friend Raven."

"Charmed," Raven smiled sweetly, holding out her hand. Bellamy took it with a smirk.

"Best friend, huh?" He turned to ask me, but Raven cut in.

"Oh, of course! We've known each other since we were kids. BFFs for life!"

"Isn't that redundant?" Bellamy couldn't help but ask, and I kicked him under the table. That caused his smirk to turn into a full-blown smile.

"Just emphasizing the strength of our friendship," Raven replied curtly.

The tequila shots arrived at that moment, and Raven squealed, clapping. "Excellent."

We each grabbed our own and Raven raised hers to the ceiling. "To being done with stupid ass medical tests!" She downed her shot and grabbed a lime wedge, sucking on it for a few moments.

Bellamy and I locked eyes for a moment before taking our own shots as well. The tequila burned down my throat, and I couldn't help but let out a little cough; tequila was not my specialty.

"So, Mr. Blake," Raven began, tossing the lime wedge across the table. "When are you going to ask my friend out?" Her face had a mischievous grin on it, and I gaped at her.

"Raven!" I said, shocked. I turned to look at Bellamy, and he also had a surprised look on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence his face changed, and he looked at me with a warm smile.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, I panicked. I didn't want to hear the rejection from Bellamy, and _definitely_ not in front of Raven, so I blurted out, "We're just friends!" I hoped that that would silence him.

It did. He closed his mouth quickly and looked back down at his beer bottle. His face almost had the same look on it when we were talking about his mother earlier. I swallowed thickly.

Raven made a sort of humming noise. "Fine," she said, grabbing Bellamy's beer and taking a swig. His eyebrows shot up. "Then ask me out."

Raven was always one for the theatrics; she loved to surprise and shock people, but _that_ took the cake. My jaw dropped and my hands clenched tight around my beer bottle. I gave credit to Bellamy for covering his own shock relatively well. His eyebrows stayed up, and he gave me a sidelong look.

Not knowing what to say or how to respond, I let out an almost maniacal laugh. "Raven likes to take the rug out from underneath people, huh?"

Bellamy stared at me for another few moments, and it made me squirm in my seat. He turned to fully face Raven and did his head tilt. My heart clenched. "Are you always this forward?"

Raven smiled, turning her body to match his. "Are you always this uptight?"

"_I'm_ uptight?"

"Yes, Doc, you are. But I can fix that."

"And how do you expect to do that?"

"I tend to help people let loose and have a little fun. Especially after a long, hard week of studying."

Soon they were both laughing and flirting with each other across from me, and I felt so uncomfortable that I excused myself to go to the ladies' room. When I returned, they were still at it, and I took that as my cue.

"Well. Thanks, Bellamy for the beer and for being an awesome study partner, but I should head home and hit the hay." Plastering on my biggest smile, I grabbed my jacket and purse from the booth.

Bellamy put his beer on the table and made a move to get out of the booth. "I'll walk you home."

Raven covered her face so Bellamy couldn't see what she was mouthing to me. _Make him stay!_

I sighed, waving Bellamy off. "No! No, you two stay and continue having fun. I don't live far from here anyway. I'm good, Bellamy. Once again, thank you for this week, and maybe we'll pair up for more awesome exams in the future." My voice sounded so formal I almost cringed, but I kept my face friendly and neutral. Before Bellamy could respond, I gave Raven a quick kiss on the cheek and one last wave before I slipped through the busy bar and out the door.

Not long after that, Bellamy and Raven were a couple, and not long after that, Raven moved in to Bellamy's place and there was a huge rock on her left ring finger. They were the perfect couple; they even _looked _gorgeous together. And that was that.

"Raven is a sweetheart, and my best friend. _And_ your soon-to-be sister-in-law. You'll love her soon, I know it," I say now to Octavia, watching her narrow her eyes, as if trying to see if I'm lying. She sighs heavily and it makes me smile.

"Fine, we'll see." The last part is said almost like a threat, and I laugh.

Just when I'm about to offer Octavia a drink from the bar, Bellamy comes up to us, Raven leaning heavily against his body. I wince at the horrible face she's making.

"O?" Bellamy smiles, using his free arm to give his little sister a side hug. Raven moans at the movement. "When did you get into town?"

"Just a few hours ago. Had to be here for our girl's birthday." Octavia links her arm through mine, and because my brain wants to kill me, I focus a little too hard on the _our_ in her last comment.

To get my mind off it, I reach out to grab Raven's arm. "Are you okay, Hun?"

Raven raises her head and her face is one of despair. Knowing her, though, I know she's milking this for all it's worth, but I smile sympathetically anyway.

"I'll be okay, Clarke," she slurs. "Bell'my's just gonna take me home. 'm sorry, sweetie. I just wanted to be there for your birthday."

"It's okay, just get better and drink lots of water."

Raven smiles. "Always taking care of me. Don't worry about me." She manages to stand up taller and lean more on Bellamy. "I've got my own doctor at home. He'll take care of me. Real _good._"

"Ew," Octavia pretends to gag. Bellamy gives her a glare. I stifle a laugh.

"Call me tomorrow, okay O?" Bellamy gives Octavia's shoulder a squeeze.

She smiles. "Of course."

"Happy birthday, Clarke," Bellamy gives me one last wave and heads toward the exit, Raven in tow.

"Well, that is a sight I've never seen before." Octavia and I turn to see Jasper suddenly standing behind us, grimacing slightly. "Raven being carried out of a bar? I'm shocked." He says this last part in a deadpan voice, and Octavia snorts.

"Where were you?" I ask, giving his arm a half-hearted swat.

"Making the rounds," he says simply. I stare him down for a few more seconds until he caves.

"Fine! I was dodging Raven. Girl doesn't like me."

"She likes you just fine. We're all old friends, aren't we?"

"Note the way you put that 'aren't we?' at the end of that statement."

I am about to respond when Octavia lets out a loud cough. I look at her and she stares at me with wide eyes.

"Oh!" Laughing, I put my arm around Octavia. "Jasper, this is Octavia, Bellamy's younger sister. O, this is Jasper, an old friend."

"Define 'old'."

"Been friends since the 6th grade," Jasper says proudly.

I smile. "Yep. Me, Jasper, and Raven. Thick as thieves." Jasper rolls his eyes at this.

"So, 'younger sister'. Just how young we talkin'?" I elbow Jasper once again. "Ow! It's a legitimate question!"

Octavia smiles. "I'm twenty-four."

Jasper nods. "Nice."

"Nice and legal?"

Jasper sputters at this, and I can't help but laugh. "What? No! That's not what I meant. I just meant… Wow, twenty-four. That's a good age. I liked that age. When I was that age, I mean."

"Stop, Jas," I stage whisper. Jasper buttons up his lips.

The three of us hang out for a few more hours and have a few more drinks until we decide to share a cab home. Just as Jasper is about to hail one, it shows up almost instantly. Jasper lets out a _whoop!_ which makes Octavia and me laugh.

"I am. A god," he says. He's about to open the door when it swings open on its own. Jasper jumps back and Bellamy steps out of the cab. He looks surprised to see us. "Hey."

"Hey," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"Raven left her purse here. I have been sent to retrieve it."

"Crap, her new Coach purse?"

"Oh no! Not the Coach purse!" Jasper mocks, slapping his forehead in fake terror. The action makes him whimper in pain due to the drinks he had. Octavia giggles.

"You two go ahead, I'm going to help Bellamy look for it," I say, giving both Jasper and Octavia quick pecks on the cheek. Jasper grimaces at me, and I stick out my tongue back at him.

"Fine," he says, ushering Octavia into the cab first. "See you later?"

"Of course," I give one final wave before heading back into the bar.

Since it is past two o'clock, the bar is mostly empty. I spot Bellamy under one of the booths in the corner, and I head his way. "Any luck?"

"Nope," he straightens and sighs. "Shit, it could be anywhere."

"I'll try this side," I say, pointing toward the bar.

After a few minutes of kneeling on the questionable floor, I spot a glint out of the corner of my eye. Getting a better look, I see that it is Raven's white sparkly purse.

"Aha!" I grab it from under the table and raise it in the air in victory.

"Eureka?" Bellamy asks, meeting me in the corner where I found the bag.

"Eureka," I smile. He returns it and takes the bag from my hands. "Thank God. I would not have been able to handle that freak out."

"Well, it _is _$2,000." I say. He winces.

"I wish I didn't hear that."

"Oh, my bad," I smirk. "It's actually only $50. I swear."

Bellamy returns my smirk, and I laugh. We head out of the bar and Bellamy's trying to hail a cab for us when he turns to look at me.

"Hey," he says. "One more drink?"

"Oh," I mumble, clutching my own purse. "I don't know…" I just want to get home and jump in my comfy, yet disgusting (Raven's word) sweats and drown my thirty-year-old sorrows in a pint of ice cream. Turning thirty is hitting me harder than I would like, and ice cream sounds like something I need right now.

"Come on, just one? I know a place."

"Is it Monty's?" I joke. He laughs.

"No, another bar. More… Low key."

We lock eyes and once again I feel like he's staring right through me. He pins me with these looks and I feel warm. Warmer than Finn's hand.

And suddenly, all I want to do in my final hours as a twenty-nine year old is be with someone else's fiancé. With Bellamy Blake.

"Okay. One more drink."

**A/N:** Reviews are ah-MAY-zing! Please let me know how I'm doing so far.


	3. Spark

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**CHAPTER THREE**

We end up at a bar near Central Park called The Boathouse. It is one of those low key bars that always has a haze of smoke no matter the time of day or night. They're known for their large selection of beer, and I remember Bellamy telling me about this place, but I've never been myself. Bellamy says he'll get the drinks and if I could find a place to sit, that would be great. I smile, heading towards the back of the bar where I remember seeing a couple of free tables.

Settling in to the tiny table, I glance at the bar to see Bellamy leaning against it, waiting for our drinks. A few spaces down from him there is a woman sitting alone, nursing what looks like one of those annoying fruity drinks – complete with an umbrella – and wearing a tight red dress that just screams 'fuck me'. She's shamelessly staring at Bellamy and licking her lips. Amazingly enough, he either doesn't notice her or pays her no mind. When the bartender places our drinks on the bar, Bellamy throws down a bill and gives him a smile of thanks, still not giving the Red Vixen any notice.

As he heads to our table, he places one of the beers in front of me (Blue Moon, good choice) and slides into the chair across from me. Red Vixen's lips purse when she sees that the gorgeous man she's been undressing with her eyes is with another woman. I smile to myself and give myself a point. She doesn't have to know that he's not with me. Just for tonight, any woman can go right ahead and think we're together. I don't mind.

When Red Vixen sneers my way and turns back to her drink I can't help but let out a snort.

Bellamy tips the orange slice that was hanging on the side of his glass into the beer. "What?"

"Oh nothing…" I do the same with my own orange slice and take a long sip. "Just…"

"What?" he asks, his eyes smiling.

"Please tell me you notice that," I finally say, gesturing vaguely towards the bar where Red Vixen is still glancing our way every five seconds.

"Notice…?" He makes a circular motion with his hand, as if to say _go on._ I sigh in mild annoyance.

"Come on," I take another long drink. "She's basically fucking you with her eyes."

Bellamy sighs, finally glancing back to the bar. Red Vixen chooses this moment to flip her hair behind her shoulders. "No, she's not."

"Ha! Yeah, right. There is no way any warm-blooded male can't _not_ notice something like that."

"Fine, whatever. So what?"

"I notice it, too. I can pretty much feel the daggers digging into the side of my head."

"What?" Bellamy looks genuinely confused by this remark, and I can't help but laugh.

"Please. She must be freaking out. Totally confused by this picture we're painting."

"Clarke," Bellamy shakes his head, a small smile on his face. "You're gonna have to help me out here."

"She's wondering what the hell you're doing here with me," I stage whisper, leaning across the table to emphasize my point. "She's all like 'What the fuck? She's so bland and Mary Jane, there's no way in hell they're together.' Isn't that how it goes? Beautiful people are supposed to be with beautiful people!" I end this with another laugh, drinking a rather large amount of my Blue Moon.

"Come on," Bellamy laughs as well. "Stop, Clarke, you know you're gorgeous."

I stop mid laugh at this, looking into Bellamy's eyes for any sign of teasing or mockery, but he simply looks back at me with a look of defiance, as if to say _I dare you to say otherwise._

I finish my beer quickly, trying to soothe my dry throat. He's been doing that to my throat a lot lately.

"You finished?" he says with a deep, low voice, as if he's affected like me.

_Why not? Why can't he be?_ I think to myself.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Wanna get out of here?"

And suddenly I have a flash in my mind: Bellamy taking me home instead of going back to his fiancée. Bellamy walking me to my door. Bellamy pushing the hair away from my face and framing it with his hands, nailing me down with his hot gaze. Bellamy kissing me. Bellamy never letting me go.

This picture is so sudden and strong that I make an erratic jerk and kick the bottom of the table with my knee. My empty glass would have flown off the table if it weren't for Bellamy's quick reflexes.

"I have to go home," I say lamely, grabbing my purse and clumsily leaving the table. Bellamy slides out of the chair smoothly. Damn him.

"Okay," he says simply, grabbing Raven's Coach purse as well.

_Raven._

"I'll see you later, Bellamy." Waving awkwardly, I turn to leave the bar in quick fashion. I don't even notice Red Vixen anymore.

I'm on the sidewalk trying to wave down a cab for a whole five seconds before Bellamy is standing beside me. Even in the crisp night, I can feel the heat radiate off his body.

"Hey," he says softly. I chance a glance his way. "Since we're going the same way…"

"Oh!" I exhale, just as a taxi comes and stops right in front of us. I don't drop my arm yet.

"If that's all right with you –"

"I mean, of course we can share –"

We both chuckle for a moment until the driver rolls down his window and sticks his head out. "Hey! You in or out?"

Bellamy turns and pins me with a look that is way too intimate for being on the sidewalk, standing in front of a smoky bar where Kenny Rogers is crooning from the juke box in the corner. Hell, it's too intimate a look to give someone that is _not_ his fiancée.

"Clarke," he reaches for my arm, but seems to decide against it and lets his hand fall lamely to his side. "In or out?"

Okay, he's just talking about the cab, right?

Right?

"In," I say. Bellamy opens the door for me and I slide in.

"It'll be two stops," he tells the driver once he's settled. After giving him both our addresses, we sink into a comfortable silence for several blocks.

That is, until I have to open my big mouth.

"Bellamy?" I ask quietly.

"Hmm?" He turns to me, his knee brushing mine. The two purses lie between us, and I focus on the soft paisley pattern that covers mine. Raven's purse is a shocking white, sparkly; way too decadent and beautiful to even be near mine, which looks beat up and simply pales in comparison.

But isn't that always the case?

"Are we -?" I begin. Suddenly the cab takes a turn a bit more sharply than I am prepared for, and I jerk out of my seat and the left side of my body crashes into Bellamy's. On instinct, I reach out to brace my fall, which ends up being my hands on his chest. Shit.

_Shit._

"Shit."

I'm about to apologize for letting the profanity slip out, but then I realize it didn't come from me.

Suddenly I feel warm hands on my hips and even warmer lips on my own, and my head is swimming and my eyes are sliding closed and I feel like I'm floating. All my brain seems to focus on is the hint of citrus I taste on Bellamy's lips. The orange from the beer.

I'm vaguely aware of the cab stopping in front of my brownstone, the door opening behind my back. Bellamy is ushering me out of the cab, our lips barely breaking apart, our hands barely idle. He throws the driver a few bills and I'm cognizant enough to grab the purses. Even drunk I'm responsible.

Finally getting the door open, we stumble into the living room with little grace. He pushes my jacket off my shoulders, I yank his tie off his neck. He kicks his shoes off, I unzip my dress. He unclasps my bra, I unbuckle his pants. I slide my fingers through his soft, soft curls and he slides his across my bare stomach.

As we head to my bedroom, clothes and undergarments flying, he grabs the doorframe to steady us. His hand slips when I lick a long stripe up his Adam's apple. That damn Adam's apple that has been driving me crazy all night.

"Clarke," he chokes out. I cover his lips with mine. I don't want him to talk. I don't want talking. Not tonight.

"You drunk?" he asks between kisses. I push him on the bed.

"No," I answer, even though I am. Drunk people never say they're drunk.

I finish pulling his shirt off. He slides my panties down my legs. He hovers over me and pushes my hair out of my eyes. I slip my arms under his and dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades, a wild thought of whether or not I'll leave marks flying through my mind. He lets out a soft hiss before his lips descend upon mine.

And just like that, I'm having sex with Bellamy Blake. One of my good friends. A man who makes me feel safe. A man whom I didn't think I ever had a chance with.

A man who is engaged to my best friend.

**A/N: **This chapter's short. Apologies. I'll update soon to make up for it. I have at least half of the story written out, it just needs to go through the fun editing process (which is done by yours truly).

The bomb has been dropped. And the fun begins!


	4. Morning

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The world is hazy. Sunshine pierces through my blinds and I groan from the intrusion, about to throw my arm across my eyes to block the light.

Only I can't move my arm.

Brow furrowed, I turn to find out what is obstructing my left arm and let out a small shriek.

Bellamy is still sound asleep, both his arms shoved under his pillow (my pillow). The white sheet (_my_ sheet) is low on his body, showing off his smooth tan back that has a smattering of freckles.

_Jesus, you _cannot _focus on that right now, Clarke._

I locate the source of my arm's obstruction; it is trapped underneath Bellamy's chest, and if I just twist my hand a little bit I can –

_Damn it, focus!_

Panicking, I jerk my hand from under his warm body (holy smokes, so warm) and the motion causes him to almost fall off the bed. He manages to stabilize himself before he does so, grabbing the headboard and turning sharply towards me. His eyes widen like mine.

"Shit!" he whispers, sitting up sharply and looking around the room. "What time is it?"

Clutching my comforter to my chest, suddenly feeling very modest even though he saw everything last night, I grab my alarm clock off the nightstand. "Six-fifteen," I choke out.

I hear a soft ringtone coming from my living room, and my heart stops. My phone.

"Where's my phone?" Bellamy's still looking around the floor of my room, most likely trying to find his pants.

"Um…" I point to my bedroom door.

He throws the sheet off his body – his toned body that I now know the feel of – and grabs his boxer-briefs off the floor, heading toward the sound of the ringing phone. A few moments later he re-enters, both our phones in hand as well as his pants.

"Twelve missed calls," he says under his breath, looking down at his cell as he hands mine over. I'm too scared to look at the screen, knowing what I'll see. "Shit, shit shit…" He drags a hand over his face.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my _God._" I grab the comforter harder. Bellamy pulls his pants on quickly, tripping slightly before giving up and sitting on my bed to finish the job. "What have we done?" I ask to nobody in particular, feeling a wave of dread overcome my senses. I bring my head down to my comforter and try to stop the flux of tears I can feel coming.

"Hey, Clarke," he zips up his fly and comes over to my side of the bed. He reaches towards my face, but just like last night, decides against it. At least, until he decided to _not_ decide against it, and sleep with his fiancée's best friend.

"Clarke," he tries again. "It's going to be okay."

"_How?_ How is it going to be okay? We just –"

"I know."

"Don't you realize how _not okay_ that is?" My voice has reached a decibel that I believe only dogs can hear.

My phone starts to ring, and we both jump. I take a deep breath and look down.

_Raven._

I can't help it; I let out a sob.

"Hey, hey," Bellamy does touch me this time – my hand – but I pull away after a few seconds. I just can't handle his touch when I'm swimming in this emotional turmoil. Even though he's right there with me. "It's going to be fine. We'll do it like this."

"What?"

"I'm going to leave, and when I do, I'm going to call Raven and tell her I went out with Finn to Monty's new bar. He'll back me up. It'll be fine. I'll call him, too."

I nod numbly. "What do I say?"

"Just say that you're not sure where I went, that maybe you saw me with Finn, but you're not sure. Okay? You're not sure." Bellamy's body language is calm, in control. I picture him with his patients; all the scared parents he has to talk to about their sick children. He was always such a strong, caring man that could talk anyone off a ledge. Just like he's doing with me. However, as cool and collected as he looks on the outside, I can read his eyes – they're tight, distressed.

I shake my head slightly when it finally hits me what he wants me to do. Lying has never been my strong suit; my voice tends to get higher than normal and it shakes slightly and there's no way we're going to get away with this –

"Yes, we will. It will be fine."

I bite my lip. I said that out loud, didn't I?

"What if she already called Finn?" I ask, finally making eye contact with Bellamy. He doesn't answer. "Oh, God…"

"I should go," he says, clutching his phone in his hand, a sorrowful look on his face.

My phone rings a third time.

"I should –" I can't finish, just gesture to my phone. He nods, heading back out of my bedroom.

"Hey," he says softly. I look up.

"I'm sorry," he says.

I nod. "Me too."

I have no idea who we're apologizing to: each other or Raven.

He leaves my room and I hear him gather the rest of his clothes (God, we couldn't even make it to the _bedroom…_) and the click of my front door closing behind him. Then silence.

I take a deep breath and tap the green button on my phone screen.

"Clarke! Where the _hell_ have you been? Bellamy didn't come home!" Raven is screeching into the phone, and I have to pull it away for a few moments, my hangover kicking in.

"You don't think he's cheating on me, do you?" she asks, hysteria in her voice.

My breath hitches, but I hold my ground. "Of course not. He loves you."

She scoffs in the phone. "Of _course_ he loves me. I wasn't asking that, Clarke. I asked if he was _cheating_ on me."

"Right…" I trail off, not sure how to respond.

"He better not be cheating on me, I swear to God. He better be bleeding to death in a hospital bed or in a ditch somewhere."

"Raven! Come on, don't say stuff like that." Leave it to Raven to see the bigger picture.

"When did you see him last? Who was he with? Where did he go?"

I take a deep breath, remembering what Bellamy told me. "I'm not sure," I pause, pretending to be thinking hard. "I think I overheard his friend Finn talking to him about going to a new bar downtown." I leave Monty's name out of it. "Have you tried Finn?" My stomach flutters at his name, praying that she didn't call him first.

"Finn?" she asks. "That slacker? Like he even has a working cell phone number."

I bristle at this for some reason; her tone and how she spoke suddenly making me tired.

"Hold up." Pause. "That's Bellamy on the other line. Ohhh man, I'm going to rip him a new one."

"Take it easy on him, he's probably had a long night." _A long night with me._

"Yeah, whatever." Without so much as a goodbye, I hear nothing but silence on the other line. I have been dismissed.

Thumbing my phone off, I drop it on my bed and hold my hands up, noticing them trembling. I shake them out and lace my fingers together, as if I'm in prayer. Maybe I am.

I look down at my bed; the blankets and sheets strewn all over the place. The sheet that was just covering Bellamy's toned form on the ground. I lean across the bed to pick it up. God, it still smells like him.

In a split second decision, I rip the blankets and the fitted mattress sheet off my bed and, along with the sheet that was just on the ground, throw them in my closet. Grabbing the pillows, I chuck them in as well, watching them plop silently on the pile of blankets before I slam the door shut.

I head into my bathroom and when I catch my reflection in the mirror I wince.

My hair is a bird's nest; full of knots and tangled curls that I know I won't get out with a simple hairbrush. The mascara on my left eye is smeared to the point where I could never get away with saying it's a "dramatic cat-eye". I can't even start on my eye shadow…

Sighing deeply, I turn my sink on to the hottest setting and scrub my face clean of any remnants of last night. Knowing that I'll need a bigger washcloth to do something like that (and a time machine), I toss the towel on the counter and turn to my shower, turning it to the hottest setting as well before stepping in.

After my shower, I'm beginning to feel a bit better – physically at least. I head to my kitchen to grab a large glass of water and some Tylenol, but I freeze in the middle of the living room.

Flashes of last night appear before my eyes: Bellamy and I tearing away at each other's clothes. Bellamy's hair, so soft. Bellamy grabbing my body like he was afraid I was going to disappear…

My phone rings from my bedroom, jolting me from my thoughts. Forgetting the water and Tylenol, I race back to my room, complete with the stripped bed, and reach for my cell on my nightstand.

"Raven?" I answer.

"Hey." It's not Raven, but Bellamy.

"Oh," I say dumbly, not knowing what else to say. I collapse on the mattress, clutching the phone so tightly.

"I borrowed Raven's phone," he says unnecessarily. Silence.

"Okay."

"I just wasn't sure if you'd pick up –"

"No, it's okay." I pull the phone away for a second to cough.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, and suddenly I'm back in my bed with him. I cough again.

"I'm fine," I say shortly. "You?"

"Yeah. Listen, I just wanted to –"

"Who is that?" I hear Raven say in the background, and my heart rate picks up.

"Um, Clarke –"

"Oh!" I hear Raven grab the phone. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't call back!"

"It's okay," I mutter, wanting to grab my comforter but remembering it's in the closet.

"Yeah, shit got real up in here for a little while. But we talked."

"And?" I ask a bit more aggressively than I want. I bite my lip.

"And everything's fine. Bellamy now knows that this kind of stuff isn't gonna fly in the future."

_In the future…_

"I mean, seriously? He's thirty-one for crying out loud! What thirty-one-year-old stays out all night with his buddies? Seriously." Raven says the word 'seriously' so much that it doesn't even sound like she's using it in that way. Seriously, I mean.

I leave my room and continue my original mission: Tylenol. "I'm glad he's okay and not… What did you say? Lying in a ditch somewhere?"

"At least that's a more suitable excuse than just getting piss drunk all night with his frat buddies."

"Bellamy wasn't in a frat." I frown.

"Whatever." Another overused word. I sigh. After a few seconds of silence I hear Bellamy's deep voice in the background mention something to Raven. She gasps dramatically in the phone.

"Oh, my gosh, I almost forgot! Happy birthday, Clarke! Shit, sometimes I'm just a scatterbrain!"

"It's okay. Thank you, Raven." I swallow thickly. I hear Bellamy's voice again. I hold my breath.

"Bellamy says happy birthday, too," Raven adds. Before I have a chance to respond, she's moving on. Okay then, I guess that's done.

"Anyway, Bellamy and I are heading out in a few. Lunch and all that jazz. Oh! Guess what I just found out?" I can hear her moving around her apartment. Scratch that, _their_ apartment. My heart clenches.

"What did you find out?" I ask. She sounds far too happy; it can't be anything bad. Nothing about Bellamy and me. _Relax, Clarke._

"Finn totally has the hots for you!"

"Finn?" I scrunch up my face in confusion.

"Yeah, turns out, dude does have a cell phone, so don't worry about that." I wasn't. "Anyway, he and Bellamy were talking and I happened to overhear that Finn thought you were, and I quote, 'a gorgeous princess', and wants to take you out! I mean, seriously, Clarke, the man called you a damn princess."

"That's from something that happened in college. A Halloween costume. It doesn't mean anything."

"Ugh, whatever, it doesn't matter. Point is, he has a major crush on you, and he wants to take you out! You in?"

My stomach flips at the last question. _In or out, Clarke?_

I turn on my kitchen sink and wait for the water to turn cold as I grab the bottle of Tylenol. "I don't know…"

"Oh, come on! He's cute, right?"

I think about Finn and his floppy hair and his infectious smile and his warm hand that doesn't have a ring on it. "Yeah, I guess he is."

"So…?" Raven urges, and I can just picture what face she has on right now. As she's sitting on her king size four poster bed that I helped her pick out at Crate and Barrel. A bed that is surrounded by furniture that is filled with hers and Bellamy's things. I look at my Ikea bookshelf in the living room that I know will never house any of Bellamy's books. The tiny dresser in my bedroom will never hold any of Bellamy's shirts and pants. Including the pants that I unbuckled last night.

I make a snap decision.

"Sure, I'm in."

Raven squeals on the other side of the phone and I quickly chug my glass of water.

"She says she's in, Bellamy!" I hear her scream. "Call Finn _right now_ and give him her number!" I hear her laugh for a few moments before she calms down. "I knew it," she says.

"Knew what?"

"That you'd be all for Finn. Bellamy was fighting me on it, saying shit like he's not your type, you don't like him like that… Blah, blah, blah."

"Really?" I say breathlessly, hoping she doesn't notice. Of course she doesn't.

"Ha, ha!" She starts laughing again. "Bell!" I jerk the phone away when she screams again. "You owe me twenty bucks!"

**A/N:** Hope you like! Reviews are always awesome.


	5. Past

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **This chapter sort of sets up background for Clarke; it depicts the men whom she slept with in her life.

Also I'm going out of town until next week. I won't be near Wi-Fi (noooo...) unless I make a break for it and find a coffee shop or something, so I won't be able to update for about a week. So I hope you enjoy this chapter and it'll tide you over until I come back!

**CHAPTER FIVE**

In all my thirty years of being on this planet, I've only slept with three men. To me, sex is what you do when you're in love, or at least in a pretty serious relationship. I was never one of those girls who's looking for the one night stand, the random hook up. To me, it made things messy, and someone almost always got hurt.

Raven was never one of those girls, but she certainly was a bit… more open-minded than I was. She had many boyfriends in high school, while I had one, and he came near the end of our senior year. His name was Henry, and we dated for about three months until we decided to mutually part ways over the summer. I had plans to go to Stanford University for my undergrad and Henry was going to Georgetown. We had fun during those three months, but it was more out of comfort because we were so similar. We were both rational people, and knew that a long distance relationship wasn't going to work out. So we said our goodbyes Labor Day weekend and he gave me a farewell present in the form of a sweet kiss on the forehead. Overall, not a bad first boyfriend. Short, but sweet. However; I was never in love with him, so we never slept together.

I did, however, sleep with Zack.

Zack White went to Stanford with me, was Pre-Med and wanted to go into cancer research. As a nineteen-year-old undergrad, that was pretty sexy to me. He was tall and gangly; roughly about 6'5" and I was pretty sure my arms were thicker than his. But he wore these horn-rimmed glasses that I would just drool over and he never went anywhere without his tweed jacket. Most kids our age would snicker at his suede elbow patches, but I loved them. Looking back on it now, I can safely say he was a pretentious ass, but at nineteen, I was simply in love.

One night in the library we were two of the only students left. It was about one in the morning and I was chugging my coffee with reckless abandon, studying my flashcards for my anatomy midterm the next week. Usually no one bothered me when I sat alone, but that night someone did.

"Excuse me." My head jerked up, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to focus on the guy looming over me. So much caffeine. "I couldn't help but notice you are studying for anatomy?"

I glanced down at his slender hands, which were clutching a giant anatomy textbook; same as mine. "Um…"

"Maybe we can make headway together?" Before I could answer, he slid into the chair beside mine. "I also couldn't help but notice your flashcards being way more superior to mine." He held up his stack of flashcards; three-by-five notecards that had a bunch of tiny writing in plain black ink. I looked down at mine, filled with multi-colored gel pens, important information highlighted in bright colors, and small thumbnail drawings I painstakingly tried to copy perfectly from the textbook. They took me hours to create, and I was proud of them. I smiled at him, glad that someone else appreciated them.

"Zack," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

My face flamed in embarrassment, realizing that throughout this interaction, I barely uttered a word. I took his hand; it was cool to the touch, and his fingers were soft. "Clarke," I mumbled, trying my best to have a smile on my face that didn't scream "serial killer."

"Nice to meet you, Clarke," Zack placed his books and notepads on the table in front of him. That was another thing I thought was great about him; he never used spiral notebooks. He only used yellow legal pads for his notes. I thought that was so sophisticated of him. It was the first true sign that I was surrounded by young adults, not children.

But, once again, pretentious ass.

"So, are you going to share those secret flashcards, or am I going to have to offer something in return?"

I let out a maniacal laugh in the middle of the library, and someone shushed me. Cheeks flaming once again, I whispered, "Sorry, I've had a lot of coffee."

Zack smiled a brilliant smile, and I felt so special, having such a beautiful smile being only for me, that I rested my flashcards on the table in front of us and spread them out the same way I've been doing for the last week and a half.

After that night, we made plans to meet in the library to study for the midterm, and when that was over, we made plans to meet up for different reasons. On our six-month anniversary (I'm not sure why people celebrate 'monthly' anniversaries. Shouldn't it be an annual thing? But Zach showed up at my dorm with a bouquet of roses and exclaimed 'Happy Six-Month Anniversary!' so I didn't complain) we decided to consummate our relationship. It was sweet; he was kind to me the whole time and kept asking me if I was okay. That may be a turn-off for some women, but I was nineteen years old, and it was my first time; I felt loved, not irritated. And while it didn't knock my socks off, I heard that it gets better, and the first time is usually hard for the woman.

Things were going well for us, up until our one-year anniversary (the one that I was okay with celebrating). After that, Zack started acting strange and we didn't see each other as often as we used to. At first it wasn't a big deal; school was really picking up and we were both busy with our studies. But over time he was cancelling plans to hang out and it was really grating on my nerves.

One day I went to his dorm to confront him about it, only to come face-to-face with his roommate, Justin. Justin was a Psychology major, and he always got a kick out of throwing around all these different psychological theories and things like "qualitative and quantitative research."

Just when I was about to ask him where Zack was, Justin nodded solemnly and said "Ah, yes. I figured you'd be coming by," and gestured for me to enter the dorm. Completely confused by his behavior, I walked in and sat on Zack's bed.

Justin then proceeded with some bullshit speech, like he was practicing for one of his psych classes. He kept saying things like "social cognition", attitudes being expressions of approval and disapproval, and other things that never truly mattered when it came to Zack and me. Hell, he even slipped in the name "Gestalt."

When I finally told him to shut up with all the psycho-crap and give it to me straight, he did. He said that Zack no longer wanted to be with me, and he hoped that I could move on and live my life the way I want; because he sure as hell was going to do the same.

I just shook my head in disbelief. Zack was breaking up with me? Through his _roommate?_ My face burned from embarrassment, and before Justin could say anything else idiotic, I bailed.

That night, I called Zack to set the record straight. He said he was sorry, that Justin had no right to do that to me. But he was thinking about breaking up with me for a while, and he talked about it with his roommate a lot. He guessed Justin just thought it was his place to do it for Zack when I went to visit their dorm. I'll talk to him, he said.

"Don't bother," I said simply, then slammed the receiver down hard enough for it to almost fly off my table. I remembered then that I never even asked why he broke up with me. At that point, I didn't care anymore.

Instead I called Raven immediately, cried over the phone for about twenty minutes, and dug into a pint of Cherry Garcia. She said that I was better off without him; that he was a chump who wore an outdated jacket and who cares if he _does_ find the cure for cancer? He'll still be an ass. I laughed around a spoonful of ice cream, thanking Raven for being there for me, even though she was over 2,000 miles away.

"Of course, chica. Where else am I gonna be?"

The second man I slept with was after I graduated from Stanford, and I was going to Columbia University for med school. Because my world was so small and centered around my studies (just like at Stanford), I didn't meet a lot of people outside of Columbia. One night during my first year there, a girl in the program I was in, named Monroe, asked if I wanted to join her and a couple of other girls and head to a bar nearby.

My initial thought was no. That I really shouldn't. There were books to study and notes to revise. But Monroe was nice enough, and it was just one night. Why not?

After classes, I sped back to my shoebox apartment and changed clothes; actually ran a brush through my hair and added some mascara and lip gloss. I inspected myself in the mirror and sighed. Good enough.

We hit a bar called the Lion's Head Tavern, a dive bar near campus. Since it was a Friday night, the place was packed, but we managed to push to the bar and grab our drinks. There was a dance floor near the back, complete with a live band playing some twang-y country music. Monroe, apparently being a huge country fan, screamed "I love this song!" and pulled one of the girls in our group to the dance floor. Soon, the other two followed, but I just stayed along the edge of the dance floor and watched them dance, sipping on my vodka and cranberry juice.

Soon after the band stopped playing for a ten minute break, the house DJ came on and continued the music. Monroe and the other girls stayed on the floor, hips swaying and drinks held high so they wouldn't get knocked over. I saw Monroe let out a loud belly laugh and it made me smile.

"Having fun?" I heard a deep voice behind me, and it made me jump, the vodka cranberry sloshing dangerously close to the edge. I turned sharply to the source of the voice, a glare already on my face.

"Jeez! Announce yourself or something," I said, shaking my free hand out, like I got vodka on it or something. I didn't.

"Sorry," the man said, even though he didn't sound it at all, a smirk firmly in place. He wasn't a large man; he was only a couple of inches taller than my 5'6" frame, but I noticed that his arms were well toned under his button-up shirt. His dirty blonde hair was shaggy; it fell into his eyes and he didn't seem to mind. I didn't notice the cowboy hat in his hand until he placed it securely on his head. I snorted softly. He heard me, and raised his eyebrows.

"Somethin' funny?"

"Nope, not at all," I smiled sweetly, taking another drag from the small straw in my drink.

He pushed his hat up from his face with his thumb, then used said thumb to point to the dancefloor. "You wanna dance?" he asked, his smirk back.

I hesitated, looking over at Monroe. She was already looking at me, mouthing _Come on!_ to me. She added a wide smile, as if that would make me feel better.

"Just one dance? I promise." He made an X on his chest, over his heart, and I couldn't help but giggle.

"Okay, one dance," I repeated. He held out his hand for me to take then led me to the dance floor, next to Monroe and the other girls. She found a man to dance with herself. When we settled ourselves on the floor and began to dance, Monroe let out a quick _whoop!_ and did a fist bump. I couldn't help but laugh, suddenly feeling more relaxed.

The man pulled me closer, his hand on the small of my back. I gulped. "My name's Austin, by the way."

I pulled my head back slightly and let out a soft laugh. "As in Austin, Texas?"

Austin smiled, showing off his set of straight teeth. His central incisors are a bit bigger than normal; most people would call them buck teeth, but for some reason they seemed to fit him. I smiled back.

"Wow! How'd you guess where I was born?" I laughed.

"Lucky guess," I answered.

"Yeah, my parents weren't very original, huh?" His hands squeezed my hips slightly, but he didn't pull me closer, which I appreciated.

"Well, try being named after a candy bar."

That made him falter in his dancing. "Seriously?"

I laughed again; Austin made me laugh a lot. "No, I'm totally kidding! It's a family name; my grandmother's maiden name."

"Oh, thank God, because if I had to date another girl that's named after a candy bar..."

I raised my eyebrows at this. "Date?"

He faltered slightly again. "Well, damn." He left it at that.

I was about to respond, but the song the DJ played ended abruptly and there was an odd silence in the bar. Austin let go of my hips and tipped his cowboy hat. "Well, that's my cue. Ma'am," he drawled.

"Your cue?" I asked, but he already disappeared through the crowd of bodies and onto the stage where the rest of the live band was getting ready for their next set. I gaped.

Monroe came up beside me and grabbed my arm. "_Damn, girl._ Did you nab a _guitarist?"_

I stood there and watched Austin tune his guitar for a moment before the rest of the band was ready to perform. He sent a wink my way and soon the country music began again and the dance floor filled once more.

After the band's set, Austin found me in the crowd and slipped me one of his band's CD's, giving me another wink. His band's name was "Lone Red Light" and when I opened the CD booklet that was inside, I discovered he wrote his phone number in it.

After seeing it herself, Monroe squealed and _demanded_ I call him. However, me being me, I waited over a week to work up the courage. When I did, however, he cracked a joke about giving up hope and I started laughing again; the nervousness was washed away after a simple phone call.

Austin was just what I needed; he was light and easy during a time where my stress was at an all-time high. I would have a hellish day at school, he'd come over and we'd watch a movie in my tiny apartment. I would study for exams until I literally couldn't keep my eyes open, he'd invite me to one of his band's gigs. He was the yin to my yang. We were opposites, but it worked for us.

One night, after one of his gigs, I was helping him and the band put their gear into their van when he let it slip. "I love you, Clarke."

Even though we were in a dingy alley, even though the rest of his band were surrounding us (then froze when he declared his love for me), it was perfect. I smiled – which he returned – told him I loved him too, and leaned in for a kiss, both hands still clutching one of their amps. His bandmates whooped and hollered, and Austin whipped a coiled cable at them, causing them to disperse, laughing.

We were together for (once again) a year, then things shifted when Austin announced that Lone Red Light was going on tour. Of course, I was happy for him and his band, and after lots of talking, we decided to try and make it work long distance. For a wild moment I thought of Henry in high school, but I pushed him away. That was then; I could make this work.

I would've made it work, if it weren't for Cecelia.

Cecelia Armstrong was another act that was on the tour. I remember the night Austin and I said our goodbyes at the train station. He barely made eye contact with me and seemed to be drawn to Cecelia, or "Cece" as she liked to be called. I tried to ignore it; I kept telling myself that Austin loved me and the tour was only five months. We could make it work.

It worked for about one month.

Austin called me one night from the road. It was two in the morning; he was in San Diego and forgot the time difference. It was after a gig and I could hear loud noises in the background, like he was in a bar or something.

"Clarke," he yelled over the phone. I winced, rubbing my eyes.

"Austin?" I tried to stifle a yawn. "What the hell? It's late. Are you okay?"

"Are _you_ okay?" he asked instead. I furrowed my brow.

"Austin – "

"You know I would never hurt you, right?"

"What's going on?"

"Answer me; you know I would never hurt you."

"Yes, I know that," I suddenly grew worried. "What's wrong?"

"I just –" Pause. I heard a door squeak open, then slam shut, the background noise gone. "I just wanted you to know that I would never intentionally hurt you."

_Intentionally hurt me…_

"What did you do?" I asked, dreading the answer, yet knowing it deep down.

"What? No, I didn't do anything! I told you, I would never hurt you."

"Then what are you _going_ to do? What do you _want_ to do?" I asked instead.

There was silence on the other end. I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyes again. It was too late (or early) for this shit.

"Austin, is it Cecelia?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but a quick choked sound came out.

More silence greeted me.

"Austin, you said you'd never hurt me, and I believe you. You're calling me now, before anything happens with her, so you don't feel guilty."

"No, that's not what –"

"Then what is this?" I demanded, suddenly angry.

I heard a sigh, then a ruffling sound; most likely taking his cowboy hat off to run his finger through his hair. "Clarke, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know."

"It's just… Cece and I… We're so similar."

There it is. I knew our "opposites attract" act could only last for so long.

"Do you love her?" I don't know why I asked.

Silence.

I can't help it; I began to sob.

"Clarke –"

"I have to go. I have an early class tomorrow."

"Clarke, I'm sor—"

I couldn't hear him apologize again. "I have to go. Please don't call me again." I hung up the phone and I barely managed to get it back on my nightstand before fully bursting into tears, sinking deeper into my blankets. The effort it took to cry wore me out, and I fell asleep within minutes.

Austin hit me harder than Zack, because while I believe that it was puppy love between me and Zack, the love I felt for Austin seemed more… concrete. More real. Over the course of our relationship I saw myself being with him forever. I saw myself becoming a successful surgeon and he and his band became a breakout country music sensation. We'd both be busy, sure, but we'd make it work. Maybe even have the whole package; the 2.5 kids and the 1.8 cars in the garage of the two-story house with the white picket fence. It sounded perfect to me.

But musicians… They're unpredictable.

Sometimes, when I'm in a music shop, I venture over to the "L"s and see if I can find his CD. If I'm ever with Raven, she notices this and gives me a hard stare, pulling me away from the section. If it's Jasper, he would try and convince me that the band broke up because they found out their guitarist was a huge douche and they're not selling CD's anymore. If I'm with Bellamy, he'd let me go; let me check the "L"s, just to see. He'd be right there with me, and if Austin's CD's were there, Bellamy would squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. If there were no Lone Red Light CD's, he wouldn't bring it up, and we'd move on.

Bellamy. The third man I slept with; the most recent. I am not in a serious relationship with him, nor am I in love with him.

Right?

I've always had that sad, little crush on him since medical school, but it never moved past that. Then he started dating my best friend, and I pushed those thoughts and feelings to the back of my mind. But now that we've slept together, those feelings are rushing to the forefront, like a tidal wave, and I can't seem to stop them.

The bigger problem is, do I want to stop them?

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcome (and loved, of course).


	6. Date

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **I wanted to get this out before tomorrow, because there is a good chance that I will be dead by then because of 'THE 100' finale. That last episode? *brain explodes* *as well as other things, apparently* It may take me a bit to get over the heartache that I know I will suffer. 'THE 100' fans need to meet up in a centralized location and have a vigil or something. We'll need it.

I also want to say thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with this story and sending comments and giving kudos! I'm really bad when it comes to replying to comments, and I apologize profusely. But I want you to know that I do appreciate them (and love them to death!) and I hope you're all enjoying the story!

Another thing: This chapter is a bit low on the Bellarke and a bit higher on the Flarke (because it's their first date), so apologies about that. I have a plan, and for those who know the story of 'Something Borrowed' you know this is a necessity!

On with the chapter!

**CHAPTER SIX**

Later on, I'm in the middle of doing laundry (blankets and sheets) and cleaning up the living room when my phone rings, breaking me from my stupor.

"Hello?" I answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Hey." Bellamy.

"Hey," I say back.

"Happy birthday." I can hear the slight smile in his voice. I can't help but return it.

"You said that already today."

"Yeah, but I wanted to tell you myself."

"Okay," I mumble, wringing the towel I was using to dust my furniture in my hands. The silence drags on, longer than I can bear. "Is that all?" I cringe. Too formal.

"No, I also wanted to see how you were doing."

"Considering?" I ask, finally releasing the chokehold I have on the towel and throwing it on the coffee table.

He exhales slowly. "I just want to know if you're okay. If _we_ are okay."

_We._ "Yes, of course we are." I pause. "Are you at home?"

"Yeah, Raven's on the phone in the office with the wedding planner. Apparently something got messed up with the rehearsal dinner and Raven's trying to get to the bottom of it. Been on the phone for over an hour."

"Hmmm."

"Clarke, we need to talk about last night."

I sigh, plopping down on my couch, turning down the movie I had playing in the background. _My Best Friend's Wedding._ Eeesh, what the hell? I turn the TV off completely instead.

"What is there to talk about?"

"What do you mean, what is there to talk about?"

"You're seriously answering my question with a question?"

"Well, it's a stupid question."

"No, it's not!" I say indignantly, letting out a quick laugh. He doesn't respond, and we fall into a lull.

"I just don't know what you want from me, Bellamy," I say quietly, turning to plump the pillows on my couch. I suddenly remember the pillows that are still in my closet. The ones that probably still smell like Bellamy.

_Well, I've been meaning to buy new pillows anyway…_

"I want to make sure we're okay," he says again.

I quickly grow irritated. "Yes," I hiss out. "We're fine. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until I believe you."

I pause. "You think I'm lying?"

"I think you're feeling guilty about last night."

I can't help but laugh at this. "Of course I am, aren't you?"

Silence. "Bellamy?"

Still no answer. I let out a small groan.

"Look, what happened last night was a mistake. And yes, I'm feeling guilty because of what we did to Raven. We _both_ did this, and I feel sick. I know that I was feeling really emotional and bummed out about turning thirty, and we were both really drunk –"

"I wasn't that drunk," he interrupts.

This gives me pause. "Wh – what?"

"I mean, yes, I had a few drinks. I surely felt the buzz; you can say I was tipsy, even. But I wasn't completely plastered or anything. I knew what I was doing and I believe a part of me wanted it to happen."

This is too much for me to handle. "Bellamy –"

"Of course, that's pretty obvious, isn't it?" he continues on, and I listen intently, my knuckles turning white from clutching the phone so tight. "I mean, I'm not saying I took advantage of the situation; it just happened. But it's not like I haven't thought about it before –"

_When?_ My mind screams. _In medical school? After? Two weeks ago? WHEN?_

"Look, I know that you're feeling horrible, and I feel the same way. I just wanted you to know how I felt, _fully,_ and have it out there. I mean, it's not like it's going to happen again." He says the last part with a hint of a question at the end, and this whole conversation is not going the way I imagined at all that I almost don't respond. But I know I have to.

"No. It's not going to happen again," I repeat, switching my cell to my other hand and wiping the hand that's been holding the phone on my pants. "It was a mistake," I say with more strength than I feel like I have.

"Okay then," Bellamy says, and lets out a huge sigh. "Well, I should go. I'm sorry again."

"No, yeah, okay," I say, and I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing that that comment didn't make a lick of sense.

We say our goodbyes and I thumb my phone off before placing it on the coffee table next to the dust rag, my mind filled with more questions and uncertainties than it had before Bellamy's phone call.

* * *

A few days after what I coined "The Event," Finn calls me while I'm trying to gulp down a bad cup of coffee at the hospital. I try to get caffeine in my system before I head into surgery. Several hours of standing in one place could put anyone to sleep; scalpel in hand or not.

At first I'm confused by the phone call – totally forgetting that I gave Raven the OK to give him my number – but after hearing his warm, happy voice for a few moments I relax my shoulders.

"Why, hello, Princess."

I groan. "Are you ever going to let that go? You weren't even there!"

"So did you wear one of those way over-the-top dresses, complete with yards of tulle and a tiara? Or were you a more laid-back princess?"

"My lips are sealed."

"Aw, come on! You know I'm going to find out one way or another."

I let out one of those dark, yet playful laughs. "Oh, really?" I smile brightly; it feels good to flirt. "How are you going to do that?"

"I'll just ask for pictures from Bellamy."

My smile fades slightly, but I try my best to keep the conversation light. "Yeah, like he'd have any," I say teasingly.

"You never know. He keeps some of the most random shit for years. One time, I found his old, disgusting shin guards from when he played soccer in junior high. Junior high! Did I mention that I found these three years ago?"

I can't help but think of the copy of Lone Red Light's CD that has Austin's phone number in it, tucked away in a box deep in my closet. I bite my lip. "Well, you know… nostalgia," I offer lamely. Finn laughs.

"Anyway, I feel like we're way overdue for a drink. You in?"

_You in? You in? In or out, Clarke?_

Why are people suddenly using that damn phrase all the time?

"Oh, um…" I look out the door of the break room and see one of my nurses trying to get my attention. It's time for Mr. Stevens' appendectomy.

"Sure, when?" I say shortly, finishing off my coffee and making a face at the chalky taste. The break room really needs to get some sugar.

"How about Friday? I have a piece due that day for Time, but then I'm free all night."

Finn works as a freelance photographer; I learned this from a phone call from Raven yesterday. She said she learned from Bellamy that Finn loves the hours (or lack thereof) and he never feels like he's tied down to any one thing or place. He feels free. When I asked her if she ever saw any of his photos, she scoffed and told me that that wasn't the point.

The nurse, Sherry, is now waving a bit too erratically to be taken seriously. I give her a look and she stops abruptly, her cheeks tinted pink. "Friday sounds good," I say to Finn, throwing the empty Styrofoam cup away and adjusting my white coat.

"Great! We can meet at The Ark if you want –"

"No!" I interject, wincing at how loud my voice got. "I mean, I'm kind of sick of that place. Been there a lot lately. How about the bar on 12th street? I think it's called 12th Street Bar. Amazingly enough."

Finn laughs at my little quip, and I smile, my heartbeat returning to normal. "Sure, sounds great. Eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock."

"See you then, Princess."

I hear his laugh once more, and before I can give him a comeback, he hangs up. I purse my lips and shake my head, but I can't help but smile. I tuck my cell phone into my coat pocket and head to the OR, all the while thinking to myself that this is good for me. That Finn is a nice, sweet guy and I really need that in my life right now.

Plus, he's not engaged to Raven, so I'm already doing better than the last guy I slept with.

* * *

On Friday I am heading to the 12th Street Bar to meet up with Finn. Before I head inside, I take a deep breath and clear my mind, then slip through the double doors.

Even though it's only eight, the place is packed already and I glance around the bar to see if Finn managed to get here early and snag a table. When a wild wave catches my attention, I turn and see Finn sitting at the bar. Smiling, I head his way, and he slides off the stool to give me a quick kiss on my cheek.

"Had to fend off at least a dozen wild animals to secure these primo spots. You're welcome," he adds with a smirk, gesturing to the stool next to his before sitting back down.

"Oh, you poor thing, how can I ever repay you?" I laugh and maneuver myself onto the stool; I decided on a knee-length pencil skirt and a silk button-up, completing the simple outfit with kitten heels that Raven's been trying to get me to throw out. But I love them and they're the only pair of heels I have that don't pinch my toes.

"Letting me buy you a drink?" he offers, then waggles his brows. "And maybe certain pictures from a certain Halloween?"

"Not a chance," I say, nudging his arm with my elbow. He smiles.

When the bartender comes our way, Finn orders an obscure beer that I've never heard of while I ask for an apple martini. Nodding, the bartender heads to the other end of the bar to start on our drinks, and I turn to Finn, eyebrows raised. "So what exactly is a Saison beer?"

Finn gives me a quick glance before spinning the coaster the bartender left in front of him. "It's a beer that originated from Belgium. A fancy pale ale. The one I'm getting is brewed by Belgian monks during the winter months." He shrugs, like it's no big deal that he knows so much about this one beer.

"Are you some sort of beer connoisseur?" I tease gently.

He shrugs again, turning to me this time, a small twinkle in his eye. "Oh, I may know some things."

"Maybe next time you can teach me some stuff so I don't only order Blue Moon every time I go out."

He laughs, then nudges me back, the way I did earlier. "Already planning our next date?"

I feel my cheeks color slightly. Thankfully the bartender chooses this moment to bring us our drinks. Placing them on the coasters he left, I pick up the martini and take a big gulp. Finn chuckles.

"So you're a Blue Moon girl? Bellamy likes Blue Moon as well."

I take another healthy sip. "Oh?"

"I try and get him to branch out, but he says he feels comfortable with Blue Moon." Finn shakes his head slightly, as if in disappointment, but the smile is still present on his face. "Don't know where it came from; dude totally changed his drink preference in the middle of med school."

I suddenly think of that night in The Ark several years ago, when he brought over two Blue Moons with orange slices. I also think of the night of my birthday party; I can barely recollect the drink in his hand. I know it was a beer, but was it Blue Moon, too?

I take another sip of my apple martini to try and cover my face. I smile. "You seriously want to talk about Bellamy's beer preferences?"

Finn locks eyes with me, and I unconsciously lick my lips, tasting the apple. "No," he says lowly.

"Good!" I say in a falsely cheerful voice; the moment feels a little too thick.

"Anyway, so you're a freelance photographer," I say this as a statement, but Finn replies like I asked him.

"Yep, I contribute to several different magazines; Time, Nat Geo… Also some online publications, too. It's a pretty sweet deal; I have no 9-to-5 desk job and I travel whenever and wherever the hell I want."

"Aren't you afraid of not getting enough work? Since they come to you?" _Way to sound Type-A, Clarke._

"Nah, I haven't had any problems so far. I mean, sure, it was hard when I first started out, but I made good contacts that I still have today and they've been a _huge_ help throughout my career."

"Any photos of yours I may have seen?"

Finn pauses, tapping his finger on his nose. I smile softly. "Oh! Did you see the story Nat Geo ran about the three climbers that tackled the frozen Niagra Falls? It was an online story."

"No shit, that was you? Those photos are gorgeous!" I say, awe lacing my voice.

Finn smiles and swirls his half-empty beer around the glass. "It's a great story; no one has ever done it before, but these three crazy guys decide to conquer the unconquered."

"And you got to see history first-hand." I'm still in awe. When Finn starts to look sheepish, I clear my throat and take another sip.

"Anyway, enough about me," he makes a waving motion with his hand, popping his wrist a few times with an air of dismissal. "How about you, Doc?"

"Oh, so it's 'Doc' now?" I finish off my martini, and Finn gets the bartender's attention for another so fast I don't have time to react.

He smiles. "What can I say? I love making up nicknames."

"Yeah? What's Bellamy's?" I curse myself for bringing him up, but I can't help it; he's there in the back of my mind, no matter how much fun I think I'm having with Finn.

He laughs; a deep, hearty one, as if he's remembering something from long ago. "Oh, hell no. He'd kill me."

"Come on!" The bartender places my second apple martini in front of me and I grab it without a glance. "Isn't the point of nicknames to be heard by others?"

"Not this one," he finishes off his Saison and orders a Blue Moon next, giving me a wink.

"Is it dirty?"

Finn makes a motion across his lips, like he's zipping them closed. I nudge him again, noticing the skin tones of our arms. We're both pretty fair-skinned, although Finn looks more sun-kissed. Probably from all the travelling and being outdoors to take beautiful pictures. My mind flashes to The Event that occurred in my bed last week; how pale my hands looked when they were running over Bellamy's smooth dark skin. I remember being mesmerized by the contrast; how beautiful it was.

When Finn gets his Blue Moon I pull my head back to the present, giving him a smile to cover up my momentary memory lapse. He doesn't seem to notice.

We finish our drinks, then decide to take a walk through downtown, since it's such a nice night. I teach him a game that I used to play with Raven, where we'd pick out a person on the street and make up a story for them; their name, what they did for a living, their whole story. It is fun with Finn, who has a great sense of humor, but it gives me a dull pang of guilt because the game reminds me of Raven. It's hard to think of her lately, because of what I did. What Bellamy and I did.

She has to know there's something going on with me. I've been skirting my maid of honor duties ever since The Event, blaming being too busy and being stuck at work. I just can't deal with all the wedding talk with Raven right now. She's been wanting me to go shopping with her; she's been meaning to get new makeup for the wedding as well as lingerie. For the "big night" she had said with a wink.

Yeah, no. Definitely can't deal with that for a while. I shiver in mild disgust just thinking about it.

"Are you cold?" Finn asks, mistaking my involuntary movement as being chilled from the night.

I go with it, glancing at my watch as well. "A bit. I really should be getting home. I have an early surgery tomorrow morning."

Finn nods. "And that's something you can't play hooky from, right?" he asks with a wink. I chuckle.

"It's definitely frowned upon," I say, flagging down a cab. It takes another minute, but I manage to get one.

When it pulls up, Finn gets to the door first and holds it open for me, bowing dramatically as he does so. "Your Highness."

"Ah, so it's back to that now?" I smirk, sliding in to the car.

"Like I said, I like to keep things interesting." Shutting the door for me, he makes a motion for me to roll down the window. I do.

"Hey, I had a great time."

"Me, too," I say, shocking myself with how much I mean it.

"Shall we do it again?"

Damn that infectious smile. "We shall," I say.

He reaches into the open window and gently grabs my hand, as if hesitant. He leaves a quick kiss on my knuckles. "I'll call you."

"Okay." He steps back on to the sidewalk and before I have a chance to say goodbye, the cab driver pulls away from the curb and zips away. I sigh, rolling the window up to shield myself from the biting wind. I give the driver my address and lean back, thinking about my evening. Overall, it was pleasant; good bar, good martinis, good company. Definitely in the success column when it comes to first dates.

He didn't try to kiss me though, and I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed about that.

**A/N: **Ugh, I struggled so hard on whether or not they'd kiss at the end of the date, but for some reason they were being stubborn. Like, straight up didn't want to do it. It seems even these AU characters are Bellarke shippers, huh?

Reviews are muse fuel!


	7. Tense

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **About ten minutes before 'The 100' finale started I immediately thought of Mushu from 'Mulan', where he says "We're gonna die! We're definitely gonna die! No way we survive this! DEATH IS COMING!" And, oh look! He was right. *dead* Super upset about Clarke leaving, of course (why do the writers keep separating Bellarke?), but the logical side of my brain was like "At least make a survival pack with food, water, and weapons! Gosh..." So on top of being sad/angsty about her leaving Bellamy and, well, everyone... I now have to worry about her safety?! This show, man... This. Show.

Okay, on to the fic: I know there is a good chunk of 'Something Borrowed' that takes place in the Hamptons, and I do love the Hamptons scenes. However, since I have Clarke being a doctor, she rarely gets weekends off. So I felt her going to the Hamptons every weekend would be unrealistic. There will be some Hampton love, however! It's just later in the story. They just won't be going all the time. Bellamy and Clarke have to save lives!

Things start to get a bit tense between our favorite couple... Woohoo! Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The morning after my date with Finn, I barely get out of the shower before my phone starts blaring from the nightstand. Wrapping my hair in a towel, I just manage to answer it before it goes to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Spill. Tell me everything." Raven.

"Well, good morning to you, too."

"Yeah, yeah, good morning and all that shit. Now _spill._"

I sigh, not answering right away. Instead I begin to focus on what to wear to the hospital today. Raven is not having any of it.

"Clarke! Don't be coy, you're not good at it. Just tell me!"

"Tell you what? I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, shut up," she says with a hint of malice that I've long grown accustomed to.

"Well now, do you want me to spill or to shut up?"

"_Clarke!"_

"Oh, all right! Jeez." I find a pair of slacks and throw them on the bed. "It was nice."

"_Nice?_ Come on, you're not getting away with that." I hear a loud crunch on the other end.

"Frosted Flakes?"

"No, it's this new bran cereal that Bell's making me eat. It's disgusting to be honest. And I just love being honest!" Raven screams the last part, and I know she's no longer talking to me, but Bellamy.

"Bran is good for you."

"Ugh. I'm sick of being surrounded by doctors! Just let me eat my sugary food in peace! It's not _my_ fault I have such a fast metabolism."

"Yeah, a true burden," I mumble, grabbing a random shirt from my closet and throwing it on the bed as well.

"Anyway, no more of this 'it was nice' bullshit. Tell me for real! Did you guys hook up?"

"Raven! It was our first date."

Pause. "So did you hook up?"

I shake my head, letting a small smile escape. "No, we didn't."

"Not even a kiss?"

"He was a perfect gentleman. I had a good time." I am reluctant to say that last part, since it's Raven and she'll most definitely relay this conversation verbatim to Bellamy, but it's the truth.

"Damn, girl! You're making me lose money! I bet Bellamy that you'd go in for the kill and at least get a kiss out of him!"

I head back in to the bathroom and unwrap my hair. "Can you stop betting on me and Finn?"

Raven lets out a big laugh, followed by another crunch. "It's hard not to when Bellamy is so adamant."

"Adamant?" I can't help but ask.

"I swear, it's like he's rooting for you guys to _not_ make it. He's such a dick sometimes."

"Raven!"

"What? He's _my_ fiancé, I can say that."

_My fiancé…_

"Hey, are we still on for next weekend? Getting the gang together? Charlotte and I were thinking about heading downtown to Monty's new place. I realized we haven't been there yet as a group." She pauses to take another bite of cereal. "Plus, Finn will be there," she adds in a sing-song voice.

"I don't know," I begin. I haven't seen Bellamy since my birthday; I haven't purposefully been avoiding him, it's just worked out like that. After our confusing phone call I had decided to put The Event behind me and pretend like nothing happened. I've still been getting some pangs; mostly when I see the bottles of Blue Moon in my fridge and the pillows I still haven't gotten rid of. But overall I'm pretty proud of myself. Of course, this is all during a time where I haven't seen him face-to-face.

I tell myself now to just suck it up and get it over with; pull it off like a Band-Aid. It'll be worse the longer I wait, anyway. Better to see him in a public setting, so it's not strange and we can go on with our lives. Or I can go on with mine; maybe Bellamy has already forgotten about it. He does have Raven to keep him company at night. My heart clenches as I grab for my brush.

"No! No 'I don't knows' Clarke. You're going. I haven't seen you in _ages._ You're going. And if you have a surgery: cancel. Or assign it to someone else. Whatever! You're going!" There's a small lull in the conversation, and I take this moment to finish working on my hair.

"You really didn't kiss him?"

"No, Raven, I really didn't kiss him," I wince when my brush catches on a tangle.

"Damn. Is it okay if I tell Bell that you did? I really don't want him to win this bet."

"_Please_ stop betting on me, Raven."

"Come on, who else is gonna bet on you, girl?"

* * *

The week passes in a blur; my schedule at work was jam-packed with surgeries, which helped me get my mind off of certain things. But now it's the weekend, and I'm dreading going out. I told myself all week that it'll be good for me to finally get out and be social; to finally see Bellamy. But now my stomach is in knots and I can't for the life of me decide what to wear.

Giving up completely, I grab a knee-length black dress that I haven't worn in a few years, and thank my lucky stars that it still fits. Going simple with my makeup, I finish my ensemble off with black flats (definitely choosing comfort over style tonight) and a small clutch. Heading out of my brownstone, I hail a cab and start the journey to Raven and Bellamy's apartment, which is where we decided to meet. I tried to convince Raven to let me meet them at the bar, but she refused, saying she wanted us all to carpool together and have it be like old times. I almost let it slip right there that it will never be like old times.

When the cab pulls up to the apartment, I pay the driver and listen to him speed away as I look up at the window that I know leads to Raven and Bellamy's bedroom. I see a shadow move behind the curtains, and picture Raven getting ready for tonight. She probably tried on several different dresses and modeled each one for Bellamy, asking him which one looked good. He probably answered that she looked gorgeous in all of them, that no matter which one she wore he would be unable to keep his eyes off of her. She probably giggled in that way that would make me grit my teeth, and padded over to him, giving him a long, deep kiss that would be full of promises for later. When they were finally alone.

I shake my head and rub my temples. Yeah, this is already going swimmingly.

I head up the stairs to their front door and smooth my hair back before knocking. Almost immediately the door flings open and I prepare myself for the deep, dark eyes of Bellamy's.

I am looking at deep, dark eyes, but they're not Bellamy's.

"Clarke!" Octavia gives me a swift hug before she pulls me inside, closing the door. "You look amazing, girl!"

"Thank you," I laugh and smooth a hand down my hip. "You look beautiful, too, O."

She twirls a few times so her deep red dress flares around her knees and I laugh again. "Thank you, dahling," she drawls. "God, I've been needing a night like this for for_ever_."

"Me, too," I say, not really meaning anything by it, but Octavia raises her eyebrows. I backtrack.

"I mean, work has been kicking my ass. I had so many surgeries this week I almost fell asleep standing up in the break room at the hospital."

She laughs sympathetically. "Oh, no!"

We head to the couch in the living room and I chance a glance around the apartment. "Where is everybody?" I ask flatly.

"Raven's taking forever to get ready. The hair." Octavia points to her own, rolling her eyes. "Charlotte's also getting ready in the guest room; she only just figured out what dress to wear. Finn's on his way, and he's bringing his buddy Atom." She shrugs. "A friend of the boys' from high school. Those three getting together, and adding Monty?" She shakes her head playfully. "It'll be quite the event!"

_Event._ "I asked Jasper if he wanted to come."

Octavia's eyes light up for a moment, but then it's gone in a flash. I can't help but smile. "Is he?" she asks with a hint of nonchalance that sounds almost too forced.

"He's going to meet us there."

Just then Bellamy walks in to the living room and spots us on the couch. We lock eyes and he lets out a low "Hey."

And just like that, after two weeks of telling myself that my birthday didn't mean anything – that it was a mistake and I need to just put it behind me and forget it ever happened – all those thoughts and all my hard work is thrown out the window. Gone. Erased. My palms turn sweaty and I discreetly wipe them on my dress.

"Hey," I try to say casually, but it just comes out sounding breathy. I close my eyes in embarrassment.

Octavia gives me a weird look and opens her mouth to say something when the three of us hear a screech from the bedroom. "Octavia!" It is Raven, and she sounds desperate. "I need your help!"

"With what?" she screams back, and Bellamy levels her with a glare. "I mean, coming!"

She pulls herself off the couch and sends a grimace my way. Before leaving the living room and heading down the hall, Octavia stage whispers in Bellamy's ear. "Just so you know, you should probably tell your fiancée that when she wants us to be ready by ten o'clock, that includes her, too."

Squeezing his shoulder, she gives him a cheesy grin and disappears down the hall before he can respond, and just like that, we're alone. Alone. In his living room.

Oh Lord, the sweaty palms are coming back.

Bellamy slowly walks to the space on the couch that Octavia recently vacated and sits down. I try my best to surreptitiously make some more space between us. Unfortunately he notices.

"Excited to see your boyfriend tonight?" he asks in a deep voice, and I turn his way. He's not looking at me, but at the coffee table. He's leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped between them. His fingers look like they're squeezing tight; his knuckles white from the exertion.

"He's not –" I begin, confused. His posture is rigid, tight. His voice has a hint of malice to it. Why is _he_ angry? I want to put the whole thing behind me, to go back to the way things were – for the most part – and instead of him doing the same thing, he's decided to be snarky with me? What the hell?

Suddenly I'm no longer nervous and jittery, but irritated and defensive.

"He's not…?" he prompts, still not looking at me.

_At least look at me._

"Actually, I am," I say smoothly. "I haven't seen him since last week, and after the crazy week I had at work, I can't wait to have fun with him." I leave it at that, heavy with double meaning.

He finally pulls his eyes from the coffee table and gives me a piercing stare. "That's great," he says, the malice still prevalent, the look too loaded. "You two make a swell couple."

In the seven years I've known Bellamy I have never heard him use the word "swell," and I wish I could laugh and diffuse the situation, but I can't. So I just sit there, my body as rigid as his, my arms crossed over my chest. "Thanks," I spit out. "So do you and Raven."

His eyes – my God, those gorgeous eyes – are burning through my resolve, and all I want to do is set the record straight; apologize and tell him that Finn and I aren't a couple, that nothing's happened between us. But suddenly there's a loud knock at the door and we both nearly jump out of our skins, jerking our heads toward the door.

Bellamy runs his hand over his face and pulls himself off the couch to answer the door. Suddenly the living room is full of voices and laughter when Finn and his friend Atom enter. The three men exchange welcomes, complete with handshakes and pats on the shoulders. After a few moments I lock eyes with Finn, and even though I just went through an emotionally charged moment with Bellamy, I can't help it; I answer his bright smile with my own – albeit a bit stiff.

"Princess," he says, pulling me off the couch and into his arms. I laugh when he lifts me off the ground to spin me around a few times. When he puts me down, I do my best to focus on Finn and what he's saying and not the daggers that are no doubt coming from Bellamy's eyes.

"Your week of hell is finally over! Ready to party?" Finn lifts his arms in the air and wiggles his hips in some sort of strange salsa dance that makes him look ridiculous, yet it works.

I sigh deeply, my smile still in place. "Hell yes," I answer.

Finn and Bellamy's friend Atom comes to join us and introduces himself. He is taller than Finn by a few inches, and his dark hair is piled high on top of his head in a 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' look. He has cool green eyes and a dimple when he smiles. He is a friend from high school, and played basketball with Finn and Bellamy as well.

"Yeah, we were pretty much the shit when it came to basketball, huh Bellamy?" Finn calls over to him.

I turn to see that Bellamy is no longer in the living room, but the kitchen, which opens up to the living room, only separated by a small breakfast bar. He has a beer in his hand, and he takes a long drag from the bottle, not breaking eye contact with me. I gulp and turn away.

"Bell!" Raven comes out of the bedroom and heads to the kitchen, plucking the beer out of Bellamy's hand. "You promised to be the DD!" she pouts, placing the bottle on the counter with a small _click!_

"Right," he says.

Octavia soon follows Raven out of her room, Charlotte right behind her. I give Octavia a small smile.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Crisis averted," she answers, throwing her hands up. "There was a curling iron emergency, but we got it handled."

"I'm glad," I chuckle.

"Okay! Everyone ready?" Raven asks, looking around. "Good, let's get the hell outta here!" Clapping her hands together, she leads the way out of the apartment, her friend Charlotte not far behind.

Octavia gives me a quick look, raising her eyebrows before following suit.

I'm about to follow Finn and Atom out when I feel a warm hand on my bicep. Knowing what's about to happen, I pull my arm away without looking Bellamy's way.

"Clarke –"

"We're not doing this," I say coldly, surprising myself.

"Can we just –"

I turn my body halfway, so I can only see him with my peripheral vision. "We are not doing this right now. They're waiting for us. Your _fiancée _is waiting."

I feel Bellamy's body tense, and suddenly it's back to the hostility. "Right," he says coolly. "As is your boyfriend."

I choose that moment to fully turn to him, making eye contact. "Exactly." Before he can answer me, I turn on the heel of my sensible ballet flats and head out the door.

* * *

**A/N: **Ruh-Roh.

I'm going through final exams this week, so I wanted to get this up before they start tomorrow. Ugh... Wish me luck! And I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

*goes back to studying and listening to RAIGN's "Knocking on Heaven's Door" on repeat*


	8. Monty's

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

We pile into Bellamy's SUV and get to Monty's bar before it hits 11 o'clock. I'm stuck in the dreaded middle seat for the ride; squished between Finn and Atom while Octavia and Charlotte are sitting behind me in the third row of seating. The car is filled with the voices of Raven, Finn, and Charlotte; trying their best to keep the conversations going while we head downtown. The rest of us interject with our own thoughts every once in a while, but if the focus is off of Raven for too long she'd interrupt, and the rest of us would close our mouths quickly. Bellamy is basically silent the whole trip, but I feel his eyes on me through the rearview mirror, and I do my best to ignore them. Instead I focus on what Finn's saying, and when he cracks a joke I laugh a bit too sharply for my taste, but it's too late to take it back. Finn beams at me though, and I relax my shoulders, which I didn't realize were tense the whole time.

Bellamy's knuckles turn white from clenching the steering wheel too hard, and I tell myself it's because he's just focusing on the traffic.

* * *

As soon as we enter the bar we're greeted by Monty. He pushes through the crowd and throws his arms around Bellamy and Finn. "Friends!" he exclaims, shaking them slightly. "You finally made it!"

"Well, certain people had to get ready," Bellamy replies dryly. Raven smacks him in the stomach.

"Excuse me, but it _does _take work to look this good. Remember that." She looks around the bar. "So where's the alcohol?"

"Alcohol? I'm sorry, I don't understand," Monty says in a deadpan voice, and I snort softly. Breaking into a grin, he jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "This way, mademoiselle."

We all follow Monty to the back of the bar, past the dance floor and the small area with standing tables. The place is packed. I tell him as much, impressed.

"Yeah, it's crazy! Word of mouth really works, huh?" He winks at me and disappears behind the bar. He flattens his hands against the counter and proceeds to ask us what we want to drink.

"Dude, you own the place! What are you doing making drinks?" Atom asks, but tells him his poison of choice anyway.

"I may own the place, but it's still pretty new. Gotta pick up the slack when necessary. Plus, I don't want my favorite people to wait."

After he gets our orders, he zips away to make our drinks. When Finn and I have our drinks in hand, he immediately pulls me toward the dance floor. I hesitate, pulling away slightly.

"Oh, I can't dance," I say, blushing.

"Everyone can dance!" He squeezes my free hand. I grimace.

"Fine, I _don't_ dance," I say instead.

"Come on," he leans in close, whispering in my ear. "I won't let you make a complete fool of yourself."

The look on his face is so sincere I can't help but believe him. I squeeze his hand back and let him take me to the floor.

As we dance, I can't help but look over his shoulder every once in a while and spot Raven and Bellamy. I see them talking to the rest of our group near the bar, and I feel sudden pangs of jealousy every time I see them touch each other. It's irrational; we slept together once and it was definitely a mistake. Plus, they're getting married! They can touch each other all they want.

But I can't help it. My heart clenches when I see Bellamy wrap his arm around Raven's waist. My stomach churns when I see Raven slip her hand up Bellamy's shirt for a moment before sliding back down and settling into his jeans' back pocket. My breath catches when I see Bellamy's hand slide up her back and caress the back of Raven's neck. This one is especially difficult, because if I think hard enough, I can still feel his fingers caressing my neck as well.

I must have made a noise, because Finn stills and pulls away slightly. "You okay?"

"I –" My throat is too dry; I soothe it with my vodka cranberry. "I'm fine."

But he must notice my flushed cheeks, because he smiles warmly and pulls me off the dance floor. I don't say anything, but I am grateful.

As soon as we get back to the group Octavia pulls me away with wide eyes. "You and Finn? Why didn't you say anything!"

"There's nothing to say. We're just friends." She snorts at this. "I'm serious! We've gone on one date and talked on the phone a few times, but that's it."

"Uh-huh," she waggles her brows and I take a long drink. "Because that's what it looked like on the dance floor; just _friends._"

"O, come on. Like I said, it's been one date. I'm not rushing things. Plus I'm going for Chief Resident; my schedule is crazy, and it's hard to fully commit to a relationship." It's also hard when all I can think about is the sun shining through my blinds on a Sunday morning; beams streaming over Bellamy's bare back as he lies in my bed.

She squints hard at me, and I can't help but laugh. "Okay, but you'll tell me if there's anything 'more than friendly' going on between you two –"

"Oh, look! It's Jasper! Let's go say hi," I interrupt, pulling her towards the front door where I spot a mop of familiar dark hair.

"Hey, Clarke! Octavia," he adds, when he sees who I carted behind me. "Having fun?"

"Not as much as Clarke," Octavia teases, and I nudge her arm with mine.

Jasper's eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn't verbally ask.

Octavia's face takes on a devilish look and she smirks Jasper's way. "Come on," she says suddenly, grabbing Jasper's arm. "You're gonna take me for a turn on the dance floor, mister."

"Wh –" Before he has a chance to respond, he's halfway gone, sparing me a half confused, half scared look that I can't help but laugh at.

When I take another sip of my drink, I almost choke when I hear a voice close to my ear.

"Is that Octavia and Jasper?"

I jerk and almost catch Bellamy's chin with my forehead. "Oh! Um…" I look back at the dance floor and see Octavia dancing circles around Jasper. He looks like he's trying so hard to simply keep up. I smile sympathetically.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p' at the end. "That's them."

"They look like they're having fun."

I chuckle. "Well, O seems to be. Jasper looks like a fish out of water."

He hums softly, and I feel his breath on my ear. _Too close, way too close._

"You looked like you were having fun as well," he adds lowly. His voice sounds like it was raked over gravel, and I hate him a little bit for how sexy it is. I clench my drink harder.

"I was," I say and leave it at that, proud of myself for how steady my voice is when inside I feel like Jell-O.

"As much fun as your date?"

I turn sharply with a look of disbelief. "What?"

He takes a long drink of his beer. "Isn't that what you said to Raven? That you _had a good time?"_

I shake my head, incredulous.

_Raven's right: he _can _be a dick sometimes._

Letting out a dark laugh under my breath. I breathe out an irritated "unbelievable" before deciding to make a break for it. Maybe I'll see how Monty's doing –

"Wait –" Bellamy shoots his arm out and blocks my path. I watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows harshly, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Clarke. I didn't mean to be an asshole." He swallows again, and I tilt my head in question. "Look, I'm _trying_ here."

"Trying _what?"_ I ask with a bit of a bite to it.

He gives me a look and it only confuses me more. I'm feeling a flush, and I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or not. I take a drink anyway, hoping it will soothe my nerves instead of riling them up.

When he stays quiet, I let out an exasperated huff. "I don't know what you want from me, Bellamy. Aren't we getting past this?" I hiss.

He's silent for several moments, and I'm thinking about trying to get away again. I take another sip of my vodka, finishing it off, when one of the ice cubes comes out with wicked speed and nails me right under my eye. I'm trying to play it off by letting out an over-the-top yell, laughing and wiping the water and vodka off my face. I'm about to crack a joke about my lack of depth perception when I see something shift in his eyes – like he's made a decision – and asks me what I'm doing Monday night.

At first I'm confused by his question, so I answer it truthfully. "Nothing. I mean, I have a splenectomy that afternoon, but it's pretty straightforward and we're going to go in laparoscopically. So barring any complications with the patient it shouldn't take longer than an hour –"

I cut myself off when I realize that I'm rambling horribly. "But you don't care about that, do you?" I ask slowly, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Okay."

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out. He's so close I can feel it on my cheek. "I need to see you. So if you're free Monday night, I'm coming over. At eight. I'll come over at eight." His eyes are dark, darker than they normally are, and they're pinning me down once again. And with the way he's looking at me – the way my stomach is flipping and my mouth is going dry – I know that I'm going to say yes. Even if I have an emergency surgery that only I can scrub in on, I'm going to say yes to him coming over.

"Okay," I breathe out, clutching my empty glass with the homicidal ice cubes.

He lets out another breath that washes over my face, and I smell a hint of orange. Damn it. "Okay," he repeats. Just then his eyes flash at something over my shoulder, and I turn to see Finn coming our way with two drinks in hand. One of them is a fresh vodka cranberry, and I suddenly feel my throat drying out, like I'm almost desperate for it. Before he approaches I turn quickly back to Bellamy to see that he's already disappeared into the crowd – along with my hopes of ever getting over The Event.

"Fresh libations, mi'lady." Finn stretches out the vodka cranberry and I take it, shooting him a grateful smile. His own fades after a few moments.

"Are you okay? You look flushed."

I take a gulp and let the vodka coat my throat. "It's just hot in here. Too many bodies," I assure him.

"Oh, okay. I was thinking it was something Bellamy said." Finn takes a drag from his own glass, his eyes canvassing the dance floor, laughing when he spots Atom getting dragged across the floor by Charlotte.

I hide my darkening cheeks with another long sip. "Bellamy?" I manage to choke out, glancing once again around the bar for his familiar frame but coming up empty. "No, of course not," I mumble, but Finn doesn't hear it. I feel him reach for my free hand, and if it were earlier in the evening – before Bellamy came and frazzled my nerves – I would let him take it. Instead I pull away and send him an apologetic smile, blaming the heat once again.

* * *

**A/N:** I am a despicable human being! *said just like Rapunzel in Tangled*

This update came way later than I wanted, so for that, I apologize. But not only that, it's a short chapter with not a lot of action on the Bellarke front. But don't worry: it's getting close, trust me. Since it's my spring break I'll do my best to get another chapter up before the end of the week.

Thanks to everyone who's left kudos and reviews! I'm horrible when it comes to replying, but I'll do my best to fix that. And thanks to all that have sent good vibes my way about my finals last week! I feel pretty good about them, but I won't know for sure until Thursday, so... *fingers crossed*

Oh, and that teeny bit of surgical talk I tried to slip in all strategic-like? Yeah, thank Google for that, so if it's totally wrong, I apologize.


	9. Turn

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

Monday night comes faster than I would've liked. I am running around my townhouse straightening things up; the magazines on the coffee table, the pillows on the couch, the chairs surrounding my dining room table. I even go so far as to clean my bedroom, even though there is absolutely _no_ reason to do so, because there is _no_ way Bellamy is going to be in my room. But still, it makes me feel better.

I arrived at home by six-thirty, and have been a nervous wreck since then. As I'm tidying up, different scenarios are running through my mind, and I'm trying to figure out what Bellamy's going to say to me. Is he going to reiterate the apology he gave me after we slept together? Is he going to explain that confusing phone conversation we had, where he said he has always wondered what it would be like to be with me? Is he going to continue with the hostility from this past weekend and come in, guns blazing?

I work myself into a mild panic attack and head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Or maybe a shot of vodka. Just to calm the nerves.

Just then there's a knock on the door. I glance at my watch: eight o'clock. Can't say the man's not punctual. Taking a deep breath and rubbing my hands together, I slowly leave the kitchen and head to the front door.

I open the door to find Bellamy leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets. His normally wavy hair is curlier tonight, as if he ran his fingers through the tresses several times. His soft, soft tresses. His demeanor seems relaxed and I'm jealous of his ability to do that.

Clearing my throat, I do my best to be normal. Pre-Event. "Hey," I say. "Come in."

"You have nosy neighbors."

"What?" I ask, shutting the door behind him and following him into the living room. "What do you mean?"

"Your neighbor. The older lady that lives in the house to the right. I swear she was looking at me when I left that morning, and she was looking again. What, is her nose stuck to the window?"

_That morning._ "You're paranoid. Feeling guilty," I say shortly, leading him to the couch.

He takes a seat and gives me a head tilt. Oh, man. "What do I have to be guilty about?"

"You know…" I trail off, waving a noncommittal hand in the air. "For… things."

"Things," he drawls, smirking.

"Come on, you know!"

"I don't recall." He taps a finger to the dimple in his chin. My mind flashes to that night. I remember kissing that dimple. Damn it!

"Okay, never mind. Do you want something to drink?" I leave him at the couch and head to the fridge. "I have –" I stop, realizing the only thing I have to drink in there is Blue Moon. No. I slam the door shut. "I have tap water," I finish. "And if you're lucky, I may just have ice cubes."

"Water's fine," he calls, and I busy myself with filling two glasses before returning to the couch.

I sit, handing him his glass of ice water while I take big gulps of my own. He doesn't take one sip, just holds it for a few seconds and puts it on the coffee table. "Clarke," he says softly.

"Hmmm?" I mumble, still drinking. When it's almost empty, he pulls the glass away from my lips and places it neatly next to his full one. "Clarke," he says again. I wish he wouldn't say my name like that. Or look at me like that. Like he's seen me naked.

"What?" I ask, looking at the _Vogue_ magazine I have on the table. Cate Blanchett is on the cover, and I always thought her a goddess. I remember seeing _The Talented Mr. Ripley _with Raven, and as soon as we got home from the movie we tried to curl our hair just like she had it. It didn't work very well, but that didn't stop us from trying every day for a week.

"Look at me," Bellamy says. When I don't, he reaches out and turns my face towards him. I lick my lips, blushing.

"What?" I whisper, and it doesn't sound like a question.

"I just can't –" he stops, looking away for a few moments, as if in deep thought. When he looks at me again, there is a soft smile on his face, but it's different. Weird. It's a smile someone has when they've already accepted the inevitable; where they brace themselves and just let it happen.

"Can't…" I prod. Our faces are way too close. Our noses are barely touching, and I can't focus on his eyes anymore. Suddenly the reason I can't focus on his eyes is because he's closing them and his lips are on mine. I sit there for a beat, too shocked to move or reciprocate the kiss. But then his tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking for entrance, and I open up to him on a moan.

And just like that I feel like I'm in some cheesy rom-com. Stars explode behind my closed eyes, every single inch of my skin is on fire, and I know for a fact that I'm officially wrecked. Ruined for another. No one will ever kiss me like this. No one will make me feel this way ever again.

My mind suddenly flashes back to when I was thirteen, and Raven and I snuck the movie _Blue Lagoon_ into my room, away from the prying eyes of my parents. There was this one scene where Emmeline and Richard finally kiss on the island, and I remember it being one of the most romantic kisses I've ever seen. I thought to myself, _if a man ever kisses me like that, he's a keeper._

Now, as I feel Bellamy's lips move against my own, I only have one thought.

_Emmeline and Richard, eat your heart out. _

I finally move; reaching my hands up and grasping his shoulders, squeezing tightly. The hand that tipped my head is caressing my cheek softly, and the other is resting high on my thigh, thumb sweeping back and forth. It is an awkward position we are in for kissing, but I'm too afraid to move. I don't want to break the spell, break us apart.

There is a fleeting moment where I think of Raven; where this is _her_ fiancé and she doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve her best friend and her fiancé doing this to her. Sure, she can be annoying – a pill – and a tiring person that doesn't truly deserve half the things she gets in her life. But she sure as hell doesn't deserve _this._

At this, I pull my lips away from Bellamy's, breathing deeply. He keeps me close, and I feel my heart clench at the motion.

This is huge. Sure, we have already slept together, but that was when we were drunk (or when _I_ was drunk and Bellamy was whatever the hell he was). Our inhibitions were certainly lowered and it was impulsive. At the time, it didn't mean anything. But _this… _this means something. Bellamy came over, sober. We kissed, sober. Our inhibitions are fully intact, and they're screaming at me to stop; to end this now before it gets any worse.

"We need to stop," I gasp out, pulling away a bit more. My hands are still clutching his shoulders and for some reason they're not listening to me when I try to tell them to _get the hell off of Bellamy's shoulders!_

"This isn't real," I shake my head, trying to dislodge Bellamy's hand that is still on my face, now smoothing my hair back from my eyes. "We can't be doing this, you can't be here."

"I'm here," he murmurs. "I'm here, and it's real." He shifts so he's sitting on one of his legs and he's fully facing me. Both of his hands fly up and frame my face, and he waits for me to look at him.

"It's… it _is_ real." His face looks just as wrecked as I feel, and I squeeze his shoulders at what he's saying. It should sound corny, and if anyone else said it to me it would be. But this is Bellamy, and my breath catches in my throat when I listen to his words and the full weight of them.

_This is real. It wasn't just a drunken night. It's real. We're real._

I'm shaking slightly, and Bellamy runs his hands down my face, past my neck and over my shoulders, mirroring my pose. He rubs my shoulders for a minute before sliding them lower and pulling me in a hug.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Clarke," he whispers against the shell of my ear, and I shiver at the feeling. "I tried. God, I tried to not think about that night, but I just –" His voice cracks.

"I know," I nod, my cheek rubbing softly against his. I can feel the bit of scruff on his jaw and I can't help but press my lips to it. I feel his shaky exhale against the nape of my neck. "I –" I swallow past the lump in my throat. "I can't stop thinking about you, either."

I know I shouldn't be saying these things, but it's the truth; Bellamy and everything affiliated with the night of my birthday has been essentially taking over my life. It was only a matter of time before it all boiled over, for better or for worse.

The question is, which one is this?

We sit there on the couch for a long time, exchanging kisses and touches. We never move from our spot, and I'm glad about that. This moment is huge between us, and I'm content with sitting here and feeling Bellamy's arms around me and his lips slide across mine. I feel like we're in a bubble where nothing and no one can touch us. It's delicate, but it's here.

I try hard to keep her out, but Raven manages to infiltrate the bubble and comes popping back into my head. Why did I introduce her to Bellamy? For all the years we've known each other, she has taken things from me. She has always won. This was no exception. Why did I bring her into Bellamy's life when I felt something for him? He's gorgeous, she's gorgeous; of course she's going to go after him, and of course he's going to go after her. Why do I always put others ahead of me? I like to think of myself as a good friend; that I would do anything for my friends and I tell myself they would do the same. And for the most part, they have.

But sometimes, don't you have to think about yourself? Think about your own well-being and your own happiness? Why didn't I do that with Bellamy? Why didn't I take the plunge?

God, I'm an idiot.

Bellamy grabs my hips and pulls me closer to him, if that's even possible, our kisses growing more intense. I tell myself that tonight I'm choosing me. I'm choosing my happiness by kissing Bellamy. I'm pushing Raven out of my mind and focusing on the feel of Bellamy's tongue against mine; the feel of his fingertips sliding under my shirt and coasting over my waist.

I mean, don't I deserve a little happiness?

* * *

**A/N: **Two chapters in three days? I'm spoiling you guys rotten. Granted, they're both rather short, so I'm still going to apologize, because that's who I am.

I'm not going to lie, I'm very nervous about this chapter. I mean, _this_ is the turning point. This is the big plunge, because no drunken shenanigans (even if there wasn't any sexy time *wink wink*). I wrote, and rewrote, and wrote some more, only to rewrite all of that and write something new. Basically I was trying my best to convey the inner struggle with these characters. The subject of cheating is a very touchy one; you automatically hate the people that do the cheating and feel immediate remorse for the one that's being cheated on. I love the book that this story is based on because the author did such an amazing job having the reader be on the side of the cheater, which I didn't think I would ever do, personally. But sometimes this is life, yeah? It's messy and hard and is never tied up in a neat little bow.

Okay. *wipes brow* Let me know what you think! I hope I did this moment justice.

And, yes, I did both the "trying to curl my hair like Cate Blanchett in _The Talented Mr. Ripley_" and the "sneaking _Blue Lagoon_ into my room to watch with my girlfriends." Art imitates life, right?


	10. Lunch

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

I am changing in the hospital locker room for the surgical residents, feeling horrible. After staying over for a few more hours, Bellamy kissed me goodnight, saying we'll talk soon. I went to bed smiling, my whole body buzzing with his kisses and his words. It wasn't until I woke up this morning that the feeling of dread settled in my stomach like a rock.

This isn't who I am. I am not this person, this _other woman._ Raven and Bellamy may not be married yet, but the wedding is coming up soon, and she's my best friend. I'm her _maid of honor._ How can I start something with Bellamy and help Raven plan her wedding to him? Last night I tried to rationalize it; tried to tell myself that this is something I deserve, something I even _need._ But when it all comes down to it, I play it safe. I am the reliable one, the conservative one. I don't take chances; I don't toe the line. I stay the hell away from it.

And this? This isn't fair to Raven. This isn't fair to Bellamy, either. Hell, even me.

So we kissed last night. A lot. It didn't escalate any further. I need to shut this down before it does.

I finish tying my sneakers before shutting my locker and grabbing my cup of coffee I bought on the way to the hospital. As soon as I leave the locker room I almost crash into someone waiting outside the door.

"Whoa –"

"Oh, thank God, _there_ you are." Sherry the nurse sighs dramatically, steadying me with a hand on my arm. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Everywhere?" I ask disbelievingly, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, not _everywhere_, but close enough." She pulls me away from the locker room when more residents come filing out. "There's someone here looking for you."

My stomach drops. "Oh?" I try to sound nonchalant. "Who?"

"I don't know, some woman."

_So not Bellamy._

"She's insistent. Says she's been trying to get a hold of you for the last few days with no luck, so she just _had_ to come to your place of work since you're here _all the time_ and she feels like you're ignoring her and there's just _so much_ she has to discuss with you and please, oh please, for the love of God can you not have any friends come to the hospital ever again? Unless they're bleeding out or have several broken bones?" She pauses, twirling a lock of strawberry blonde hair, wincing when her fingers get caught in a tangle. "Maybe not even then," she adds.

"Raven's not that bad," I scold lightly, immediately knowing who she's talking about.

"Whatever you say, doc." Smiling a bit too condescending for my taste, she jerks a finger down the hall. "She's down there. Tread lightly; she looks like she's out for blood."

"Oh, for the love of…" I sigh, nudging Sherry out of the way when she lets out a short laugh, shaking her head.

I head down the hall to meet up with Raven, trying my best to not show anything on my face or in my demeanor. I take a deep breath and turn the corner, spotting Raven almost immediately. She's sitting in one of the waiting room chairs with a large binder in her hands, showing it to an older gentleman with thick glasses and a kind smile, nodding along to everything Raven is saying.

"Raven," I interrupt softly when I reach the pair. I notice they both jump slightly and look up. I raise my eyebrows in question at Raven, and the man smiles sheepishly.

"Clarke! Wow, I'm shocked that you came out to see me. I thought I was going to have to make an appointment." Raven snaps the binder shut, and I immediately recognize it as her wedding binder. Suddenly, on top of the tightness in my chest, I feel a headache coming on. I cannot deal with wedding talk right now.

"Of course you don't need an appointment," I say, glancing at the man next to Raven, who is trying to look anywhere but at me or Raven. "But I am working, Rae. What's up?"

"What's up? _What's up?_ I'm getting married in four months, that's what's up!"

_Oh, are you? How can I forget?_

"I'm getting married soon, and my maid of honor is practically unreachable! How am I supposed to deal with all of this –" She holds up her binder and shakes it slightly. "—if I can't even _talk_ to my maid of honor?"

I now feel the man's gaze on me, and I fidget a bit. "I've been really busy, Rae. You know I'm up for Chief Resident. This is very important to me."

"And my _wedding_ is very important to _me!"_ she argues back, letting out an indignant huff for effect.

I bite my lip before I say something I'll regret, rubbing my temples. "Tell you what," I begin, sitting on the table in front of the chairs. The man grabs a copy of _Time Magazine_ and I have a wild thought of whether or not Finn's photos are in there. "I will do my best to have an actual lunch break – during lunch time – and we can meet up and discuss wedding plans then, okay?"

Raven's eyes narrow. "What if you have a last minute surgery again?"

"Well then, tough luck for them."

The man's head shoots up from his magazine and looks at me with wide eyes. Which, behind his thick lenses, look almost comical. I purse my lips and shake my head soothingly, assuring him that we don't leave patients hanging. He sighs, looking relieved.

Raven is tapping her manicured fingers on her binder, constantly reminding me that it's there. "Promise?" she presses.

"I promise," I say, even though I secretly hope there is a last minute surgery.

She stares me down, as if checking to see if I'm lying, and it causes me to laugh nervously and look down. She smiles.

"Okay then. I'll come back at noon."

"Noon?" I look at my watch and mentally check my schedule.

"Yes. Noon," she says, almost threateningly. I hear the man gulp.

"Okay, okay. Noon, it is." I hold my hands up in mock surrender.

Pleased with her win, she claps her hands together excitedly and opens that damn binder once more, flicking through pages of veils and bouquets. Finding the page she wants, she studies it hard, smoothing her fingertips over the glossy cutouts.

"Um, Raven?"

"Hmmm?" She looks up once more.

"Aren't you…?" I trail off, vaguely gesturing to the elevators that lead to the main floor lobby.

"Not yet. I still have some questions for Frederick."

"Frederick," I deadpan. The man who I'm assuming is Frederick jerks when he hears his name.

"Yes, he had some great insight about where to use roses and where to use lilies. Okay, Freddie," she turns to Frederick, who slowly closes his magazine, glancing at the binder warily. "Like we were discussing before: rose colors."

"I'll… leave you to it, then." I stand up from the table, knowing I've been dismissed. Smoothing the front of my white coat, I head back down the hall to the nurses station to grab my patients' charts.

When Sherry sees me, her eyes narrow. "Is she gone?"

"She's not that bad!" I say again, grabbing a chart.

"Mhmm," she hums, typing on her computer.

When a loud, sharp laugh echoes down the hall, Sherry looks up in mild alarm. I close my eyes for a moment.

"Just give it ten minutes, then you can go down there again."

* * *

"Okay, where were we? You know, before you stopped taking my calls."

At exactly noon sharp, Raven and I are at Antonio's, a quaint Italian restaurant near the hospital that has the best vegetarian lasagna. After we order our lunch – me with the lasagna, Raven with a Caesar salad – Raven busts out with the wedding binder.

I groan softly, nibbling on one of the complimentary breadsticks. As soon as the server placed the basket down, Raven shoved it my way, saying how she's cutting out carbs from her diet until after the wedding. I almost made a remark about how fattening Caesar salads are when she ordered it, but refrained.

"Ray, I'm not _not_ taking your calls on purpose. I told you, work's been insane."

She ignores me, of course. "Anyway, so I'm trying to think of favors for the wedding."

"Favors?" I stop chewing, confused. "I thought you weren't going to do favors."

"Well, I changed my mind. People do that."

_Yes, they do. Like your fiancé. _

I continue on with my breadstick, saying nothing.

"Anyway," she says again. "Favors. What do you think?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. My maid of honor. My best friend. The one who knows both me and Bellamy best." Raven rolls her eyes and takes a dainty sip of water.

"Um…"

"Come on! It can't be that hard."

"Well, then, why don't you think of something?" I spit out, not even hiding my disdain.

Raven pauses, and I internally panic, wondering if she'll figure out that there's something up with me. I never snap at her.

I grab my iced tea and take a long sip, looking anywhere but at Raven.

"Maybe CDs?" she asks, flipping through her binder some more. "Or some of those cute boxes filled with mine and Bell's favorite treats? Or is that too cheesy?"

I exhale deeply.

"Either of those could work." I take another drink, willing our lunch to get here faster so I can get back to the hospital. Maybe I should've ordered a salad, too. Salads are quicker.

* * *

As soon as I walk through the front doors of the hospital I hear the _ping_ from my phone, alerting me of an incoming e-mail. Because our lunch went long (of course), I'm hurrying to the elevators that will take me to the surgical floor. I open my e-mail app and see that it's from Bellamy.

I feel my breath coming in short bursts, and my vision is zeroed in on the tiny screen in my hand. The elevator reaches the ground floor but I don't notice until I feel several people rush past me to enter the empty elevator. Clutching my phone to my chest, I enter last and push the button for the surgical floor with a shaky hand.

I immediately know that I'm not going to open it in the elevator. For some reason, I feel like I should open it when I'm alone, even though I told myself all morning and through the afternoon that it can't go on between us; that it has to end – whatever "it" is. It's not like we're in a relationship; we had drunken sex once and made out another time. That is… I don't know what that is, but it sure as hell can't continue because it's wrong.

The elevator opens up to my floor and I exit swiftly, my phone feeling heavy in my hand. I ignore Sherry at the nurse's station and find the first room I can be alone in: the on-call room.

I shut the door with more vigor than necessary and collapse on the bed. After a few different scenarios flowing through my mind, the rational side wins out.

What if he's e-mailing to tell me the same thing I've been thinking about all day? What if he's realized that this is crazy and we can't keep going? What if he's ending it? I take a deep breath and force a smile on my face. Bellamy is a smart man, a reasonable man. He knows to do the right thing, and this e-mail will prove that.

_It'll be fine. It's what you want, Clarke. It's for the best. Now we can move on; he can focus on marrying Raven and I can focus on… whatever I want to focus on._

My mind strays to the copy of _Time Magazine_ that is out in the waiting room.

_Whatever I want._

After I've convinced myself and feeling much better, I thumb my phone on and finally open the e-mail.

After the first few words, I immediately know this isn't going to go the way I expect.

_Clarke,_

_You are an incredible woman, and I can't believe it's taken us this long to get these feelings out in the open. When I'm with you, time seems to stand still and all I see is you. There is just so much about you that I like, yet I want to know more. I wish we could shut out the world and just be together and not have to worry about anything else. I'm sitting here in my office and all I keep thinking about is the way you smell, the way you taste, the way you feel. Okay, I just needed to get this off my chest. _

_ B_

And just like that, I'm back in my living room. Bellamy's arms are wrapped around me, his lips caressing my own. My hands are carding through his hair and the soft scent of his cologne is clouding my mind, invading my senses. His hands are clutching my waist like his life depends on it, and my own are as well.

I let out a shaky breath, thumbing off my phone and falling back against the hard mattress of the on-call room bed.

_Oh, boy._

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not going to lie, this is a filler chapter of sorts. Not a whole lot goes on here, and I'm sorry about that. Things will pick up in the next few chapters or so. For some reason the flow of this story is going a bit differently than what I pictured in my head. When I started, I thought this would be a 15-20 chapter story, and I would be done relatively quickly. But I'm writing chapter 19 now and I've only done about two-thirds of the story. Eeesh. Maybe I'll do my best to combine some of the chapters, that way y'all don't have to wait so long. Don't know where this mindset of having an average of 2,500-3,000 words per chapter came from, but I can change that of course.

Anyway, thanks for all the reads and reviews. I'm glad so many people are enjoying it! Again, I know I'm a stinker when it comes to replying to comments, but just know that I do read all of them and love all of them. And you, the reader, who takes the time to write them out. I appreciate and love it, thank you!


	11. Coffee

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Whenever I have a problem, I seem to always go to Jasper. I used to go to Raven, but after a while I realized that I'm not getting as great of advice as I used to with her. Now the problems I go to her with are simpler ones, like whether or not I should get that pair of shoes or if I should call that guy back for another date.

This problem is a whole lot bigger than shoes.

Jasper meets me at a small café near his work. He is a biochemist at the NYC Department of Environmental Protection. Basically he's in a lab all day, and every time I meet him for coffee or lunch he always walks out of the building shielding his eyes in a dramatic fashion, as if the sun is slowly killing him. I chuckle anyway.

After we place our orders for coffee we find a small table near the bay windows. Plopping heavily in the wood chair, he looks up at me, confusion gracing his features. I'm standing awkwardly by the table, as if I'm still deciding whether or not to bolt. Not 'as if.' I _am._

"Clarke?"

Suddenly, my hands feel clammy as I'm clutching my purse to my chest. My breath is coming out in short bursts through my nose as I chew on my lower lip. I try to tell myself to calm down; that this is Jasper, and there's nothing to worry about. He's my best friend, I can tell him. Right?

I take a deep breath and finally slide into the chair across from Jasper. His brow furrows.

"Clarke?" he tries again. "Why are you being weird?"

I laugh at this a little too loudly, and the pair of old ladies sitting behind us turn to give me a stern look. Jasper folds his arms across his chest and leans his elbows on the table, a playful grin appearing on his lips.

"Clarke," he says smoothly, and I know I'm busted. "You have a secret."

"What? No, no I don't." I let go of the death grip I have on my purse and drop it on the floor by my feet. "I just want to have a cup of coffee with my friend. Can't I have a cup of coffee with my friend?" I pick up the napkin that is on the table and unfold it, placing it on my lap and leaving it there for a grand total of five seconds before I grab it and fold it up, putting it back to its original spot on the table again.

Jasper sees this ridiculous action and purses his lips. "O-kay," he says, dragging out the 'O' before grabbing the flyer that advertises Open Mic Night every Wednesday at the café, studying it like it's the most important flyer in the world.

Jasper does this to me all the time when he knows I have a secret. When we were in junior high he tried to get me to tell him who Harper Jameson had a crush on (it was Jasper, so of course I couldn't tell him). After grilling me for a few minutes, he gave up and stayed silent, reading his science textbook. Finally, when I couldn't take the silence any longer, I blurted out the truth and I was ashamed, burying my face in my crossed arms that were resting on the table in the library. When he heard his name, he merely said "Really?" and went back to reading, a small smile on his face. I remember the next day of school was as normal as anything; Jasper talked to me as if nothing was different, and Harper didn't come up to me in anger for spilling her secret. It was that day I realized that Jasper Jordan was a good secret keeper, and an even better friend.

However, I am still not a fan of his silent treatment. I decide to try and play his game and stay quiet as well, grabbing another flyer with a sardonic grin and reading it over.

After a minute of silence our coffees come, and I immediately focus on my drink, pouring sugar into my cup and watching the spoon create hypnotic swirls on top.

"Clarke, don't even try," Jasper smiles a cheeky smile, taking the sugar from me and pouring some into his own drink. "You won't win."

"Try me," I say through gritted teeth. I stir my coffee with a little too much vigor, and some of it slops over the top of the mug. I take the spoon out and softly place it on the table.

"Fine." He hums, slipping his long fingers through the mug handle and taking a slow sip. "So at work, we're collaborating with some scientists from MIT, and –"

"I slept with Bellamy!" I blurt out, my knuckles turning white on the mug, eyes glued to my spoon. So this is what happens to people when they normally don't have secrets hidden away; they simply burst.

I hear the _clunk_ of Jasper's coffee mug hit the table and I wince, refusing to make eye contact with him just yet.

"Are you serious?" he asks, and my silence is answer enough. He lets out a long breath, dragging a hand across his mouth. "_Shit."_

And then suddenly he's laughing and my head shoots up, incredulous.

"Jasper!" I whisper-shout, and the two old ladies are looking our way again. Jasper doesn't stop. "This isn't funny!"

"Oh, trust me, it's fucking _hilarious_. You just don't know it yet." Finally getting control, Jasper wipes his eyes like he just finished having a good cry, and I glare darkly. "_Woo_ man, I needed that. Thank you."

"Shut up, you ass." I cross my legs under the table, making sure to kick him in the process.

"I'm sorry, Clarke." Jasper's eyes sober up and he reaches across the table to rest his hand on my arm. "You okay?"

"No!" I say like a petulant child, and Jasper grins again, grabbing his coffee once more.

"Okay, you know I'll be needing details." He gestures my way. "From the beginning, darling."

I sigh with a hint of resignation and tell him about what happened after I left him the night of my surprise party. How Bellamy and I went to another bar for one more drink, and things escalated from there. Jasper's eyes widen.

"Shit, it was the night of your party?" He rubs his chin thoughtfully, a sparkle in his eyes. "Damn."

I ignore him and continue on. I tell him about the next day, how I told myself it was a mistake. I even told him about Finn and the date we had.

"Finn Collins?" he snorts. "His best friend? Holy shit, this is priceless." He takes a swig of coffee. "_General Hospital,_ eat your heart out." His eyes widen. "Better yet, you're both doctors, let's pitch them this shit."

"Jasper, please tell me how the hell this is helping."

"Right, right." He makes a zipping motion with his fingers across his lips.

I tell him about the date with Finn, the night Bellamy came over to "talk" but we ended up making out on my couch, and the e-mail he sent me the next day. Jasper wasn't grinning anymore.

"Damn," he says again. "So this wasn't just a drunken fling?"

"Yes. No. _Shit._" I cover my eyes for a moment, trying to take deep breaths. "I don't know, Jas. At first it was. At first it was a mistake that happened when we were drunk and I told myself as much. Nothing was supposed to happen afterwards. He was supposed to pretend like nothing happened either." I grab my coffee and take a large swallow, wincing. It got cold while I was spilling my guts. Giving up on the coffee, I set it down and give Jasper a helpless look. "Why couldn't he just pretend like nothing happened?"

"Well, judging by the e-mail, I'm assuming it's because it wasn't just 'nothing' to him." Jasper looks at me hard. "Is he going to call off the wedding?"

"What?" I haven't even thought about that. I've been so caught up in my betrayal of Raven and the e-mail that completely changed everything for me that I never once thought about whether or not Bellamy would call off the wedding. Would he throw away a six-year relationship for me? What if he just has cold feet about the wedding, and this is how he's handling it? What if he's mistaking our close friendship as something more, and deep down he doesn't have these feelings? Maybe he's realizing that getting married is going to change so much, and he's just worried that he's going to lose me.

"I mean, this doesn't sound like a fling. And judging by your face right now, I think you may be feeling some of the things he wrote in that e-mail as well." He leans forward. "I think you should really talk to the guy. Get some answers."

I let out a grateful breath, pushing my mug away. "Raven…" I trail off helplessly.

Jasper makes an irritated noise in his throat, and my eyes snap to his. "Or," he begins with an air of harshness that confuses me. "You can forget about all of this – the feelings you have for Bellamy, the ones he has for you – and just lay down for Raven."

"What are you saying, Jas? That I should just continue to _cheat_ with Bellamy? Like Raven is just shit to me?" I argue, matching his harsh tone.

"I'm saying you should be careful," he says, the rough tone gone and replaced with concern. "Talk to him. See what all of this –" He makes a wide gesture with his arms. "—is, and whether or not he's truly serious." He leans back when the server comes to take our cups and saucers. Suddenly his serious look is once again replaced with one of amusement.

"What?" I ask, but Jasper just shakes his head slowly, quiet laughter escaping past his lips.

"This is just _great._ Clarke Griffin, sleeping with Raven Reyes' fiancé. Just _gold._"

"_Slept._ Past tense. One time."

"Yeah, and a healthy dose of fooling around as well."

"This isn't _gold._ Stop laughing. What, do you condone cheating?" I bite my tongue the minute I ask, knowing Jasper's history with his ex. I try to hide my wince.

Jasper doesn't bite, though. He just gives me a playful look. "Please. Like you don't relish in the fact that you're totally sticking it to her."

"What?"

"Come on, she's totally been riding roughshod over you ever since we were in junior high." Jasper gives me a look. "Don't tell me you've never seen it."

"I've –" I stop, biting my lip. Sure, Raven can be a handful – full of herself, controlling, and at times exasperating – but I've known her since we were five years old. She's my best friend, she never would intentionally hurt me or my feelings. Jasper's just overreacting; he was never a fan of Raven.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, _please,"_ he laughs incredulously, throwing his hands in the air. The server walking by dodges his flailing arms with impressive precision. It must happen a lot here. "Seventh grade, Myles Brendan, go."

"Go? What?" I pretend to not know what Jasper's referencing, but of course I do.

Back in seventh grade, I had the biggest crush on a boy named Myles Brendan. He had dark brown hair the color of chocolate and eyes that I could only describe as "laughing." He was very quiet and only seemed to hang out with the same small group at lunch every day. But one day during those lunches he made eye contact with me and gave me one of the most beautiful smiles I've seen in my twelve short years of life. His smile revealed two tiny dimples that I quickly became obsessed with. The crush hit hard that day. I remember Raven noticed my beet red cheeks and asked if I was getting sick. I just shook my head no and continued eating my mushy green beans.

Myles Brendan, because he was so quiet (and not popular), wasn't '_the_ boy' to have a crush on at our school. That title belonged to Sterling Keenan; a member of the perfect record basketball team and a boy who had quite a few girlfriends throughout our time together in junior high and high school. All the girls fawned over him because of his charming personality and his ability to sink a three-pointer. I, however, stuck with Myles and was happy that all of the other girls wanted Sterling. That way, I had my crush all to myself, even if I rarely talked to him except in the one class we had together.

Then, during one of the many sleepovers from hell that Raven always forced me to attend, I chickened out of a Dare and was forced to tell the Truth: who did I have a crush on? Not being a good liar, I tried to hide my flushing cheeks when I blurted out that I liked Myles. Some of the girls giggled at my choice; the others voiced their confusion, probably expecting me to say Sterling. Raven, however, was quiet until it was her turn.

A week after the sleepover, I was hanging out at Raven's house with her and Harper Jameson. When the three of us finally decided to quit our math homework and see what was on TV, Raven dropped the bomb.

"Hey, so you guys know Myles Brendan?"

Harper merely shrugged, flipping through an old copy of _Vogue_. I, however, froze in the middle of packing up my backpack. I kept quiet though, pretending I didn't hear what she said. When it comes to Raven, however; that is always a mistake.

"Well?" she pushed, snapping her gum.

"You talking about that guy in our health class? The quiet nerd?" Harper asked, still not looking up from the magazine.

"He's not a nerd," I said quickly. When they both turned to look at me, I went back to my mission: zipping my backpack up. "He's just shy," I added quietly.

"He's kind of cute, don't you think?" Raven asked, pulling out her yearbook from last year and flipping through it. When she got to the page she wanted, she pointed to the picture of Myles and showed it to us. Harper took a look, but I didn't need to; I already framed the picture with little hearts in my own yearbook at home.

"I thought you liked Sterling?" I said with a hint of derision. Raven's brows shot up, and I bit my lip.

"Sterling is so last year, don't you think? Plus, I'm not a fan of basketball." She looked at Myles' photo a bit longer, and for some reason it made me feel uncomfortable. "Besides, Myles' smile is kind of cute, don't you think?" She squinted at the photo.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Myles was _mine._ All the other girls were supposed to be gushing all over Sterling. What was Raven doing?

"Whatever," I said, throwing her favorite word back at her. I was so mad I couldn't think of a proper response.

The next day, Raven approached him at the lunch table where he smiled at _me,_ and they ended up talking for the rest of the lunch period. When I asked her after school what they talked about, she merely gave me a coy smile and said "stuff." After that, she'd sit with him during lunch every day and one time I saw them holding hands after school.

I remember feeling so betrayed. It didn't matter that they "broke up" after a month. It didn't matter that Myles wasn't my soulmate, and after a while my crush went away. What mattered was I told my best friend in the whole world (and other girls in our grade, unfortunately) my crush and she took him away from me. Just because she _could._

"Look, that was a million years ago," I say to Jasper now, twisting a piece of hair around my finger.

"Maybe so, but it was still a bitchy move." Jasper glances down at his watch. "Damn, break time's over." He pulls himself out of the chair and offers his arm. "Mi'lady."

Smiling, I grab my purse off the ground and take his arm. When we cross the street to his building, he lets go of my arm and turns to me.

"Clarke," he sighs, squinting up at the sky. When his eyes return to mine, he gives me a supportive smile. "I hope you know what you're doing. With Bellamy."

My smile fades.

"And if you don't, figure it out soon. I know you, and the guilt is going to eat at you. Just –" He pauses, grabbing my hand. "Just don't string this along. It's not fair."

"I know," I say softly, looking down.

"No, not Raven, I mean you." I look up sharply. "This guy better not be yanking your chain. If he's in this with you, then he needs to call the wedding off. If he's torn, then he shouldn't be getting married anyway."

"It's complicated –"

"Isn't it always?" he says with a hint of irony, a dark smirk gracing his lips. "Talk to him, and do it soon."

Giving me a parting hug, he turns to the glass doors and disappears into the giant building.

I head to the curb, trying to hail a cab, my mind spinning. Not once did Jasper tell me to stop, to not see Bellamy anymore. He told me to talk to him, to see where his head is in all this. I think back to the e-mail he sent me with a small smile on my face. I know exactly where he is, and I think I'm right there with him.

Jasper also told me to be careful, and I will. I will be careful with Bellamy.

* * *

**A/N:** A big shout out to the readers sticking with this story! I told you it was going to be a slow burn of sorts. And I'm sorry about the lack of Bellamy in these last couple of chapters. But don't worry; there will be a healthy dose of Bellarke action in the next chapter!

Really quick: Are the flashback parts confusing at all? I've been writing them as if Clarke is telling the story directly (since it is first person) instead of making a page-break or putting them in italics. I just feel like it flows smoother. I've seen flashbacks in fics written many different ways. I just want to make sure it's not confusing, like "Whoa, are we in the present or not?" I have them sprinkled throughout the whole story (which is a 'duh' if you've been keeping up) and there will be more. Plus the main story is present-tense, whereas the flashbacks or memories are in past-tense. Anyway! Let me know if it's confusing. I want people to enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Reviews are love! No seriously, I think I have a t-shirt that says that somewhere...


	12. Bed

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **Ugh, I wanted to get this up sooner, but school... Darn you, school! Have some time for a breather, so while I'm taking it, here's the next chapter! It's short; I'm sorry about that. I'm going to try and combine some chapters that are already written so the payout's better for you beautiful people!

But enjoy this one!

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

I manage to avoid wedding preparations with Raven for another week. This is extremely difficult, and there's only so many times the excuse "I have a surgery" can hold before it sounds just like that: an excuse. There were some times where I actually did have a surgery, but the other times I was either talking to Bellamy on the phone or exchanging e-mails and texts. I haven't been alone with Bellamy since that night in my living room. There have been one or two group outings at The Ark, but we haven't had a chance to talk or be alone.

He wants that to change.

"You busy tonight?" he asks me over the phone. I can hear a soft clicking in the background, and I picture him in his office; his feet propped on his desk and a pen in hand, his thumb nervously clicking away until he hears my answer.

"Nope, I'm free," I answer, the guilt seeping in when I say this. I just got off the phone with Raven saying I had a late surgery tonight and I couldn't help with the place cards. I wanted to keep my evening open just in case Bellamy wanted to see me.

Thank God he's free, too.

"Thank God," he breathes, and I can't help but smile at how similar we are. The clicking stops. "I have a couple of appointments this afternoon, but they shouldn't take too long. I want to come over."

"How's Henry?" Bellamy and I used to talk about our patients all the time, but due to our situation, those talks were derailed for a while. The name Henry suddenly popped into my mind – the 7-year-old with Hepatoblastoma – from our earlier talks. I remember hearing the weary tone in Bellamy's voice whenever he mentioned Henry.

Bellamy sighs over the phone, and I hear him shift in his seat. "He's a warrior. He's hanging in there until we find a match for a liver transplant."

"That's good. He sounds like a warrior," I whisper, glancing at the door of the on-call room that I've currently holed myself in. I usually hoard the on-call room during my talks with Bellamy at work.

"So, tonight?" he asks, and I can't help but smile at his tenacity.

"Um, what about –"

"I said I was working late."

I can't help but notice how we skirt around the use of Raven's name.

"Okay," I say with more strength that I feel I have.

"Okay," he repeats.

"Eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?" I tease.

"Just making sure it's real."

I think back to the last time we were alone – sitting on my couch and kissing with such fervor. His hands on my waist and mine on his shoulders. _This is real._

I say these words to him now, and I swear I can _hear_ his smile.

"See you tonight, Princess."

For a wild moment I think of Finn and his use of that nickname, but I push him away and all I can think about is Bellamy.

"Tonight."

* * *

At precisely eight o'clock I hear a knock at the front door. Smiling at his punctuality, I put the open bottle of wine on the counter and answer it.

Before I have a chance to utter a greeting, Bellamy's arms are around me and his lips are on mine. He kisses me with such urgency it startles me, yet I grip him back just as tight and respond to his kisses in kind. Kicking the door shut, he leads me to the couch and we plop on the cushions, almost missing completely. We break apart to laugh at our clumsiness, but then it's back to business.

He slides his hands down my back, to my waist, then around the front, his fingers sliding over the buttons of my shirt. He pops the first two open before he pulls his lips from mine, scorching a trail down my jaw to my neck. I try to take a breath, but all that comes out is a moan.

"I – I have wine," I gasp, grabbing his jacket and pushing it down his arms. He pulls his hands away from his mission of divesting me of my shirt for a few moments to get the jacket off, but then it's immediately back to his original plan.

He lets out a low hum that I feel against the pulse point on my neck, and I can't help but shiver. "I love wine."

I can't help but let out a breathless laugh. "No, you don't. But it was all I had and I figured we would need something to calm our nerves."

He pulls away at this, giving me that soul-searching look. I shiver again. "You nervous?" he asks.

"Well, yeah," I laugh again. "Aren't you?"

He finishes unbuttoning my shirt and slowly drags it off my shoulders and down my arms, his eyes not once leaving mine.

"Would it be strange for me to say that I'm not?" A slow smile graces his swollen lips, and it's a gorgeous sight. "In fact, I've never felt calmer." He plants a kiss on my bare shoulder, then the other.

It's almost ridiculous – as he slips an arm around my back and slowly lays me down on the couch – how him simply stating how calm he is has made me less nervous. Still nervous, of course, but less so.

Things start to get more intense again when I feel a small twinge in my neck, causing me to wince against Bellamy's lips.

_This is silly; we'd definitely be more comfortable in my bed._

Suddenly Bellamy's lips stall against mine and he pulls back slightly, our lips still grazing one another's. "Are you sure?" he asks.

My nose scrunches up in confusion until recognition hits. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Now_ he's_ confused. "You didn't mean to?" I shake my head and he lets out a deep laugh. One that I feel all the way down to my toes.

He pushes himself off of me, and I'm suddenly cold. When he grabs my hand and pulls me up to follow him to my room, I squeeze his fingers, a smile gracing my lips.

When we're my bedroom – the original scene of the crime – I'm suddenly nervous again. And _very_ aware that I'm shirtless. I rub my arms a few times to get rid of the goose bumps that have appeared. Bellamy turns me to face him and flashes one of his brilliant smiles that I swear makes the world a better place.

He starts to untie his shoes and I follow suit by kicking off my heels. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the pant loops, but makes no move to take his pants off, which I'm grateful for.

For some reason.

He quickly divests himself of his own shirt and we both climb under the covers of my bed, immediately grabbing for each other and kissing once more. I sigh into his mouth. _Much better._

We kiss for several more minutes before he pulls back, a warm smile on his face. He tucks my hair behind my ear and rests his palm on my warm cheeks. I smile back.

"Tell me something," I blurt out, suddenly wanting to know everything about him. Sure, we've been friends for several years, so I already know a lot about him. But for some reason it's not enough. Some of the things I know about him are things that anyone could know. He grew up in Illinois with his mother and his younger sister. He loves basketball, and his favorite team is the Chicago Bulls. His mother, Aurora, died from cancer two years ago. Octavia lives in LA and teaches second grade.

Then there's the stuff that I learned about Bellamy through Raven over the years they've been dating; personal things. Like how he wakes up at the crack of dawn to go for a run. His favorite cereal is Honey Bunches of Oats. He broke down when his mother died, and it was the first and only time Raven has seen him cry. He wonders about his dad sometimes; where he is, why he left after Octavia was born. He is supportive of Octavia being in LA, but sometimes he misses her so much it hurts. When she finally visits, he can't help but smile the entire time she's here.

I can't help it, as I smile at Bellamy's raised eyebrows, I want more.

"Tell you something," he parrots back, and I roll my eyes. He kisses my nose in an affectionate way, and I can't help but blush. "Like what?"

"I don't know." I lift a shoulder. "Anything."

He scrunches his face in mock concentration. "I hate peas," he says finally. It's so out of the blue I can't help but let out a bark of laughter. His eyes sparkle as I shake my head.

"Duly noted," I giggle. "But I meant something with a little more depth than that."

Bellamy laughs, pulling me closer. "I'm a boring sap. But you?" He nuzzles my cheek with his nose. "You, my dear, are a closed book."

I scoff. "I am not."

He merely lifts his brows. I give him a look. "I'm not," I say again.

"All through med school I couldn't get a read off of you, and I'm normally pretty good at reading people."

"Oh, you are?" I tease, wrapping an arm around his waist and running my fingers up and down his spine.

He smirks. "I am. Like I knew that you were all business; barely went out, didn't date…"

"I dated!"

Now he's the one to give me a look. "Really."

"Yes! I dated Austin, remember?"

"The cowboy?"

"We dated for a year," I say with a hint of indignation, like I have to convince him of something that happened seven years ago.

"Pffft, I'm surprised he lasted that long."

"What does that mean?"

Bellamy smiles. "It means that that guy was below you; not your type at all."

I laugh. "And how do you know my type?"

His smile fades. "I don't." He looks away for a moment. "Not back then, at least."

The air suddenly feels thick, so I try to lighten it. "Well, you were right about Austin, at least. Definitely not my type. Cecelia's type, sure, but not mine." A false laugh slips past my lips.

He gives me a sad smile. "Is that what happened?"

I don't like where the conversation's going. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

Bellamy rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "I was going to ask you out in med school," he says softly.

My breath catches as he turns his head back to me. "Did you know that?"

I can only manage to shake my head. "When?" I whisper.

He shrugs. "So many times." He lets out a humorless laugh and shakes his head, a sad smile gracing his lips.

In my mind I'm going to the memory rolodex and finding the entry that says 'med school.' I'm not the best when it comes to members of the opposite sex, but not once did I catch a vibe or anything from Bellamy. He was just… _Bellamy._ Smart, gorgeous, wonderful Bellamy that I always had a crush on but never once saw as being anything more than a friend, simply because I felt that I didn't deserve him. That he would ever see me that way. That he would ever see _me_ as anything more than a friend.

"Do you remember that night at The Ark after we finished studying for the Medical Licensing Exam? Before we – when we were alone?"

I think back to that night six years ago; The Ark, the Blue Moon, my hand covering his. I bite my lip.

"You remember," he says simply. It's not a question. I nod slowly.

He turns back on his side, propping his head up with his arm. "I thought that –" He clears his throat. "I thought that there was something there, you know? Between us." He scrubs his free hand over his face. "Could've been wishful thinking, I guess. But then Raven came and you introduced us. She flirted with me and you didn't do anything. I knew then, knew you weren't interested." He ends this with a smirk that looks more like a grimace.

I swallow past the lump that formed in my throat. "I guess I just couldn't believe that someone like you could ever want someone like me," I say sadly.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then opens them to show me the flood of different emotions swirling in their depths. I barely manage a breath before Bellamy surges forward, kissing me hard. His hands are all over my body, never idle, and he frees me of my jeans as I reach down to unbutton his pants and push them down. After a few minutes we are naked, and I can't help but shiver at the thought of what we are going to do.

Covering my body with his, he gives me a long, languid kiss before pulling back and looking into my eyes. He sighs softly, brushing my hair from my eyes. It's such a tender moment, I try not to cry.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Clarke," he whispers, dropping a kiss to my collarbone. "You sell yourself short. You think of yourself as ordinary, and you are far from it."

Blushing, I turn away from his piercing gaze, but he softly grabs my chin and pulls me back. Kissing me deeply once more, he touches his forehead to mine, and this time I can't help it; a tear escapes. He catches it with his thumb before smiling tenderly.

"If anything, I can't believe someone like you could ever want someone like me," he lets out a small laugh, as if he can't believe he's really here, and reaches for another kiss. This time he doesn't stop.

I know I should stop this; that he'll have to leave soon and go back home to Raven, but I don't have the willpower to do so. I tell myself that I'll never have the morning after. I'll never have the sunrise jogs and the Honey Bunches of Oats and the basketball games when the Bulls come to town. I won't have those moments. But I have this. Tonight, I have this.

So I blissfully clear my mind and arch myself into Bellamy's firm body, closing my eyes tight and refusing to open them for a long, long time.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope to post soon!

And yes, I shamelessly slid a _10 Things I Hate About You_ reference in there.


	13. Question

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"Which one of these says 'Vicious Trollop'? Because I really need to stay away from 'Vicious Trollop' on my wedding day."

Raven and I are at the makeup counter at Macy's looking at about twelve different lipsticks for her wedding day. After plenty of arm-twisting by Raven, I finally caved and agreed to come out with her to help find the 'perfect' wedding makeup and beauty products. I've been skirting my maid of honor duties for far too long; if I said no one more time I was afraid Raven would become suspicious of something. The last thing I need is for her to try and pry into my social life.

"So…" Raven trails off, holding two tubes of lipsticks together that look exactly the same to me. "How's Finn?"

Well, I don't need her to pry _too _hard.

"Finn?" I feign confusion, squinting at the lipstick tubes.

"Oh, my God." She abandons the makeup and grabs my arm. "You've got dish. Spill! Did something happen? Did you hook up?"

"What? No!" I laugh nervously. "We went out. We had drinks. He was a perfect gentleman and we had a…" _Had a what, Clarke?_ "Had a time, we did." I cringe. Nice work, Yoda.

"Are you going to go out with him again?"

I think back on the phone calls I had with Finn since our date and the time we all went out to Monty's bar. He's a sweet guy; great sense of humor and an infectious smile. In any other situation I wouldn't mind going on another date with him.

But Bellamy…

"Has he called?" Raven asks instead, shuffling her feet with an air of impatience.

"A few times." I leave it at that.

"Have you even seen him since Monty's?"

"No."

Raven scoffs, picking up two more tubes that are lined up nicely on the counter. "Jesus, Clarke. Are you seriously going to blow this one? I mean, after a certain age, a single woman that's never been married is just sad."

Raven puts the tubes back down and gets the makeup attendant's attention, asking if she could see their collection of water-proof mascaras in all the shades of black they have, please and thank you, sweetheart.

Meanwhile, as she's turned away from me, I'm seething. What a horrible thing to say! And to your supposed best friend? What kind of person thinks they can just say that to someone like it doesn't matter? She says it so nonchalantly; like she's discussing the weather, or goddamn water-proof mascara. What, does she think she has every right to say those things to people because she's getting _married?_ Because in a few short months _she's_ not going to be one of those 'sad thirty-something' women that's never been married?

I already have a scathing retort to her bitchy remark, but I hold my tongue. I have no right to say anything equally as bitchy back to her, do I? I'm the one going behind her back with Bellamy. Plus, if I antagonize her, it'll only end in a hysterical Raven and a red-faced Clarke and several uncomfortable witnesses to the scene.

Best to just leave it alone.

"Okay," she turns to me with two tubes of mascara, as if she didn't just say something hurtful to me. "Is black too boring? Should I try another color, like brown? Oh!" She picks up a third tube. "Purple! That's adorable!"

"It is," I nod, trying my best to make my smile look genuine. "Although, I don't think it should be a look for your wedding. Didn't you say you wanted to keep it classic?"

"Right, right," she mutters, putting the purple mascara down slowly. "Classic, yet sexy. Understated, yet hot."

"Right," I agree slowly, doing my best to not roll my eyes.

"Okay, then which one?" She holds up two tubes, one labelled 'Jet Black' and the other labelled 'Pitch Black'.

"Um… What's the difference?"

"What's the –" Raven stops and closes her eyes slowly, as if she's preparing herself to chastise a child. "Clarke, sweetie, you have to help me out here."

"I'm trying, but why are there seven different versions of black? Isn't black just black?"

"No! _This _is 'Jet Black' and _this_ is 'Pitch Black'! Totally different."

"Raven –"

"No, Clarke! You don't understand. The mascara has to be perfect, the lipstick has to be perfect. The _wedding_ has to be perfect, and I have to look perfect in it! Classic, yet sexy! Understated, yet hot!"

Suddenly I'm hit with a wave of indignation. I study the look on her face – her brows drawn together in irritation, her eyes flashing, her mouth twisted in a haughty snarl – and all I want to do is shake her.

_You know what, Raven? Not everything ends up being perfect. You already have the perfect body, the perfect job… The perfect fiancé! Why does _everything _have to be so goddamn perfect? Why do you get everything you want and we peons get nothing? I knew Bellamy first. I met him first! I should've been with him, even back in med school. Why didn't I shove my insecurities aside back then? Why didn't I put my wants and feelings above yours? Maybe we'd both still be here looking at makeup, but it would be for _my _wedding, to _my_ Bellamy. God, I'm an idiot. Why didn't I see it with Bellamy? Why didn't I see it?_

I say none of this, of course. All I know is I cannot be in the same room with Raven any longer. I feel adrenaline coursing through my body; my fingers are shaking no matter how tightly I clasp them in my fists and my breath is coming out in short spurts through my nostrils. I just know that my thoughts and emotions are written on my face, clear as day, but Raven's already turned back to the counter.

Even though I don't want her to see me like this – see the disdain and contempt in my eyes – I can't help but resent her for not even noticing the obvious change in my behavior. It shouldn't surprise me; she's been like this our whole lives. But today it bothers me more than I ever thought it could.

_Look at me! Care about someone other than yourself, for once!_

Suddenly feeling very tired, I glance at my watch and let out a deep sigh. "Raven, I have to get back to work."

Raven clicks her tongue and sends a glare my way. I can't even muster up enough energy to look sheepish. "I have an important surgery." I leave it at that.

"Fine," she says darkly, fishing through her purse for something. After a few moments I see her clutching her cell phone. "Go to work. It's all you do, isn't it?" she spits, dialing a number with record speed.

My resolve crumbling slightly, I purse my lips. "Raven…"

"Charlotte?" she says in the phone. "_Please_ tell me you're not busy. I'm desperate." She shoots me another dark look, and I am officially done.

"It's not my fault I have to work."

_It's not my fault I can't stand shopping with you for your wedding._

_It's not my fault I can't tell the difference between 'Jet' and 'Pitch' black._

_It's not my fault that Bellamy and I want to be together…_

"Yeah, sure." After a moment of silence, she twists the phone so the mouthpiece is resting against her neck. "Charlotte's coming to help me, so you're free to go."

Dismissed again. I try to think back throughout our relationship and wonder if I've ever left her because _I_ wanted to, not because she _let_ me. Probably not.

As I turn on my heel to leave the store, her voice stretches across the makeup counter. "If being my coveted maid of honor is just too much for you, let me know sooner rather than later."

Before I say something I'm sure I'll regret, I bite my tongue and get out of Macy's like a bat out of hell.

* * *

I call Bellamy; I can't help it.

"Where are you?" I ask bluntly.

"On my way home," I hear the sound of traffic in the background. "Is everything okay? I thought you were… out."

"I was, and now I'm not," I reply, almost like a petulant child. "I got out of it."

"Clarke…"

"You busy?" I don't want to talk about it.

"No." Pause. "Are you?"

"Nope." I pop the 'p' with a smirk. "I'm on my way home now. Be there in about twenty minutes."

"Is that an invitation, Griffin?"

I smile at the teasing lilt of his voice. "You bet your ass it is."

"Good. Be there in thirty."

* * *

Bellamy isn't even done knocking before I whip the door open and pull him in roughly.

"Wha –" I don't let him finish his thought; just grab the lapels of his jacket and bring his lips down to mine. He doesn't complain. I feel him respond almost immediately, his arms snaking around my waist and pulling me flush against him. I try to be sexy by pushing him backwards until his back hits my front door, but because God hates me I trip over Bellamy's feet and we both awkwardly bang our shoulders against the door instead.

"Shit!" I exclaim against his lips, and he responds with a chuckle against mine.

"Smooth," he murmurs, clutching me tighter and with a lightning speed I've never seen before, twists me so my back is against the door. Caging me in, he relinquishes control of my lips and laves a trail down my neck, sucking on my pulse point gently. He pulls back with a wolfish grin. "Hello."

"Hi," I say breathlessly.

I feel his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Well, I was _trying_ to seduce you, but that failed epically when I almost broke our shoulders on the door. So, right now I think it's you that's seducing me and I'm letting you. Or I was until you stopped." I pause, biting my lip. "Why'd you stop?"

Bellamy smiles warmly, leaning in for another deep kiss. He pulls back much too soon, and I let him know this with a small pout. He taps the tip of my nose.

"You just sounded weird on the phone. Then I get here and you jump my bones."

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"Don't worry," He drops a chaste kiss on my hurt shoulder. "I will never complain about that."

I blush and give him a kiss of thanks.

"I just want to know that you're okay," he continues, slipping his hand under my shirt and burning the skin of my hip with his touch, his thumb tracing my hipbone.

I return the favor by trailing a hand up his arms and clutch the lapels of his jacket again; this time I drag the jacket off his shoulders. He lets go of me long enough to let the jacket slide off his arms and pool around his feet.

"Trust me," I whisper in what I hope is a sexy voice. "I'm more than okay. You're here."

With a growl, he grabs me and throws me over his shoulder, and I can't help but laugh as he marches quickly to my bedroom. To have his way with me, I hope.

* * *

Bellamy and I are laying in my bed, our limbs twining around each other's bodies, when he whispers the question I've been asking myself ever since this whole thing between us got started.

"What are we doing?"

I stiffen in his arms and feel the spark of panic flow through my veins.

Ah.

My head is spinning, knowing there are so many different ways to answer that question. Unfortunately I have no idea which one to give him, knowing that if I say the wrong one this whole thing may crumble around my ears. I could offer a flippant remark – something along the lines of 'We're just having fun.'

I inwardly cringe at that. No, this is more than that.

I go the other way on the scale, maybe say something like 'You're unsure about getting married.'

Good Lord, that sounds horrible. And _definitely_ not something I want to bring up.

Suddenly a phrase crosses my mind – it is just a split second, a flutter through my consciousness. A phrase I told myself _never_ to grasp on to with hope in my heart. A place I told myself _never_ to go.

'We are falling in love.'

I take a stuttering breath and blow it out across his neck. I close my eyes tight and push the thought away. When I open them, I feel Bellamy pull away slightly to look into my eyes, the question still in his.

I go the safe route: the non-answer. "I don't know," I finally say, my fingers tightening, digging into his skin, still slick with sweat from our… earlier activities.

"I don't know, either," Bellamy pushes a lock of hair that fell in my eyes behind my ear. "Should we figure that out?"

"No," I say boldly, surprising both of us. "I mean – yes, but no. Not now."

"Not now."

"Later."

"Later…"

"Stop that," I chastise lightly, but my throat is still tight, so it comes out all gravelly.

Bellamy sobers. "So if not now, when?"

Once again I feel the panic, so I blurt out a random date. "Fourth of July."

His eyebrows shoot up.

"Just – we'll see on July Fourth. We'll talk about it then."

Bellamy studies my face for a few more beats until I feel my face redden, then he pulls me to his chest again, kissing my deeply. As if we're sealing the deal.

His kisses don't stem the flow of dread. July Fourth. I put a timeline on us. I put a _deadline_ on us. What if July Fourth comes and nothing's changed? What if we still have no idea what the hell to do? What if July Fourth comes and Bellamy decides to stay with Raven? What then? Are we done? Will he get married in September?

I pull back from Bellamy's lips and try to give him my calmest smile, hoping it doesn't come out as a grimace. He seems to not notice my inner turmoil – maybe he's focusing on his own – because he gives me a warm smile back.

I lay my head back on his chest and hold him tighter. Either way, when July Fourth rolls around, I'll be right.

We will see.

* * *

It is two days after the incident at Macy's when Raven calls me. I'm assuming that she's over our little spat, because she's chatting up a storm like nothing has happened. I guess, to her, nothing has.

"Awesome news!" she chirps through the phone, and I can hear the sound of crunching chips. "Charlotte's grandmother died!"

"Excuse me?" I almost trip on the stairs as I'm heading down to the ER. Surely she's joking, right?

"I mean, of _course_ Charlotte's grandmother dying is horrible. My sympathies and all that, but Charlotte told me that her parents are going to Florida to get all her affairs in order and all that shit, and their beach house is free this weekend!"

I can only blink, not really catching up. "What are you talking about?"

"Charlotte's parents. They're going down to Florida. Their beach house is free this weekend. Charlotte offered it in case any of us wanted to get out of town and have a break. It's in Southampton, girl. South. Hampton!"

"Okay…" I tread carefully, knowing what she's going to say next.

"We're going. All of us. You can even invite Jasper. I mean, if you _must._"

"Come on, Rae, like he wasn't your friend, too."

"_Was_, girl. Was. So you coming?"

"Is Charlotte okay? I mean, with her grandmother and everything?"

"What? Oh, she's fine. The old broad was ninety-five and her family was waiting forever for her to kick it so they can get the inheritance."

_Jesus._

"Okay! So you're going. This weekend. And don't even try to say you have surgeries or patients and all that shit, because I'm not buying it."

"Raven, it's not something for you to buy, it's actually my job –"

"Blah, blah, blah! No, you're coming. Everyone else is."

I clear my throat. "Define 'everyone'."

I can almost hear the smirk through the phone. "Why, yes, dearest Clarke, your Finn is coming."

_My Finn._ I sigh heavily.

"Finn, me, Bell, Charlotte, you, and Jasper if he _has_ to –"

"And O?" I ask hopefully. If I have both Octavia and Jasper maybe the weekend won't be as painful as I'm already imagining it to be.

"Yes, and Octavia." Raven doesn't sound too thrilled about this, chomping on more chips. "Thought she was going back to LA soon, but whatever…"

"Great!" I interject, not wanting to hear her say something bitchy about Octavia. _Say whatever you want to me, Raven, but stay the hell away from O._ "I'll go," I force out, swallowing thickly.

"Yay! Oh, it's going to be amazing! We're going to have a blast, and who knows," she giggles loudly. "Maybe you'll rekindle things with Finn. The beach is _always_ so romantic…" She sighs.

"Yeah," I mumble. _Right._

"Whooo!" I jerk the phone away at her excited shriek. "Hamptons, bitches!"

I hang up quickly and sigh. Turning to the desk in the ER, I see the nurses and a couple of fellow doctors staring at me with wide eyes. I feel my cheeks burning.

"That was, uh, my friend," I supply lamely. "She really likes the beach."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I've gotten some comments lately that have expressed concern about the relationship between Clarke and Raven - and Clarke in general being too OOC - and I wanna explain.

I love love love fics (and canon when things aren't so crazy) where Clarke and Raven are either good friends or best friends. In the show they are two kick-ass young women who are strong and beautiful and don't need no man (even though we love the Bellarke and the Wicken (is that what the ship's called?)). With that being said, this is a Modern AU. While I definitely respect people's hesitation about how they don't believe that Clarke would do this to Raven (or anyone in general) and how Raven would not act like this and any other concern, I've decided to challenge myself with this fic and have Clarke and Raven be who they are in it. I agree 100% that these lovely ladies would NEVER break girl codes and do this (I mean, that whole thing with Finn is a huge example), however this is a world where there is no nuclear apocalypse. There is no Ark station floating in the sky with only several thousand people left in the whole universe. There is no 'one child only' rule, no killing people for stealing rations, no worrying about whether or not they're gonna wake up in the morning or die in their sleep from lack of oxygen. This is a whole other world, so that means this is a whole other Clarke and Raven. I love the book this is based on, and I love 'The 100'. I wanted to mix the two.

This subject of cheating is a slippery slope, and like I said above, I knew it was going to be a challenge to write. But I hope that you lovely readers can still enjoy it, even though the characters may seem OOC at some points. It's also strange because I'm a big Linctavia (gonna say it now: there is no Lincoln) and Wicken fan (also no Wick). But with the way the story formed in my head (and not wanting to bring so many characters that it's almost confusing) these ships are not going to be present in this AU world.

Anyway, I hope this helps? If so, great! If not, I apologize; I am in no way trying to mess these characters up. I love them! I just wanted to stretch my fanfic mind and this is what came of it.

Whew. I'm a rambler, sorry. Just wanted to put that out there because I respect y'all and your opinions and questions, and I wanted to try and explain my thought process.

Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Beach

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

I am watching them at the edge of the surf, their toes barely grazing the water.

When we drove up last night, I was doing my best to appear normal. I spoke when spoken to, I laughed at the jokes that were being thrown around by Finn and Octavia. I even did my best to pretend that Bellamy wasn't boring a hole in my skull with his eyes whenever he looked at me through the rearview mirror. I failed miserably, but I don't think anyone but Jasper noticed.

See? Normal.

When we got to Charlotte's parents' beach house, she gave us the quick tour and showed us the rooms we'd be staying in. Octavia and I would be sharing one of the guest rooms this weekend, and we decided to spend a few minutes or so unpacking some things before heading back downstairs.

"Hey, you okay?" Octavia had asked, hanging up a pretty orange sundress that I knew would look amazing with her skin tone.

I cleared my throat. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You just seemed kind of punky on the car ride up."

I gave her my most sincere smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a crazy week."

"At work?"

I paused on my way to the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. "Yeah, at work."

"Well, don't kill yourself working, girl, otherwise I'll be forced to hang out with Raven whenever I visit the brother."

I laughed softly. "I thought you were going to give her a chance."

Octavia shrugged. "Who said that has to start now?"

I shook my head, coming back from the adjoining bathroom to unpack the rest of my clothes. "No perfect time like the present."

Octavia groaned. "Spoken just like Bellamy."

My stomach clenched at the mention of his name.

"But you sure you're okay?" she prodded once again.

That time I didn't turn around. "Of course, O. I'm great."

However now, as I watch Bellamy and Raven on the beach behind my dark sunglasses, I know that 'great' was definitely stretching it. In fact, 'miserable' would be a better adjective to use.

I'm laying back on my beach towel, soaking up the sun. Charlotte is on her own towel talking to me about the wedding, but I'm barely listening. I'm just nodding along whenever there's a slight pause in her babbling. Octavia and Jasper are sitting behind me. Jasper is awkwardly trying to engage Octavia in conversation, and I can't help but smile while he's tripping over his words.

However, Jasper's unsuccessful flirting does nothing to tamp the pain that's forming in my heart at seeing Bellamy and Raven together. Bellamy is soaking wet (and of _course_ the bastard looks absolutely gorgeous wet) after his quick swim, and Raven is leaning in close, her hand slowly trailing along his back. They're probably talking about something trivial, like how cold the water is or something, but the picture they paint is making a lump form in my throat.

When they're done talking in hushed tones, Raven pulls back with a smile on her face, and my stomach lurches when I see that Bellamy's smiling just as bright back at her. But just as quick as the smile came, it disappears, replaced by a devious smirk. I hear a shriek from Raven before she jumps back a few paces, as if she knows what he's going to do.

"Bellamy Blake, don't you dare!"

Laughing, Bellamy kicks the freezing water at Raven. The water barely touches her perfectly tanned legs, but she screams as if a large bucket of ice was dropped on her head. I watch her scurry away, arms flailing around her head. She turns back to Bellamy – who is still wearing that ridiculous smile – and sends him a playful glare. They're putting on a show, and I feel sick.

Not even caring if it will look rude to Charlotte (who seems incapable of silence), I rummage through my beach tote for my iPod and catch a bit of the conversation going on behind me with Jasper and Octavia. It sounds like sunscreen is involved, and Jasper is still unsure of himself.

"I mean, if you need help, I'm all over that. And when I say _that_ I mean the whole 'putting sunscreen on your back' situation. I'm not talking about any other _that._ No, just the sunscreen, I swear."

Octavia, finally taking pity on him, offers up the tube of sunscreen. "Actually, I would like some help. With _that._" There is laughter in her voice, and I swear I can hear Jasper gulping.

"Um, right. Yes, so okay then, I'll just…" Silence.

"You do know how to use sunscreen, don't you?" Octavia chuckles.

"Of course. I took that course in college. Aced it, in case you were wondering."

"Well I'm glad I'm in such capable hands."

Jasper chokes.

Finn – sitting on my other side – chuckles and shakes his head slowly. He leans in to speak in my ear. "Has your friend always been this scary good with women?"

After finding my iPod, I turn to Finn and smirk. "Oh yeah, he got _all_ the ladies in high school. His nickname was Casanova."

Finn lets out a laugh and I smile. We haven't been on another date since that night at the 12th Street Bar, but I've convinced him during our phone calls and occasional e-mails that I've been swamped at work. Which is true – for the most part. Plus his work would take him out of the country at random times, so Finn hasn't had a lot of free time as well. Overall, it's been hard to get another date. Suddenly, after seeing the performance between Bellamy and Raven, I'm feeling mildly dissatisfied with that.

Finn turns to the red cooler we brought down from the house filled with drinks and snacks. He pulls out a Corona and twists the top off. "You want one?"

I see Bellamy and Raven coming back to the towels from the corner of my eye. I will myself not to look their way and give Finn one of my million-watt smiles. "Nah, can I just take a couple sips of yours? I don't want to waste a whole beer."

Finn smiles. "We can share, Princess." He winks, and I let out a small giggle.

He places the bottle between us in the sand and nods to my iPod. "Got any good songs on there?"

I scoff teasingly. "_All_ my songs are good, Collins."

"Oh!" Finn chuckles and bumps his shoulder with mine. Suddenly there's a shadow playing over my legs and I glance up without moving my head so he doesn't know I'm looking at him. Because of _course_ it's Bellamy. He's staring down at Finn and me with an indiscernible look on his face. I ignore him.

"Is anyone else going to go into the water?" he asks, still not looking away from us. From me.

"No way! It's freakin' freezing!" Charlotte exclaims, adjusting her towel and doing her best to wipe the sand off.

Raven plops down on her own towel and lets out a long sigh. "Sorry, honey. I don't think anyone is as crazy as you are."

"Yeah, maybe if we were in Cali or Hawaii. No way is it hot enough." Finn grabs the beer between us and takes a large gulp. When he hands it to me I don't think twice; taking hold of the neck and brushing my fingers against Finn's, imbibing a rather large amount as well. I still don't look up at Bellamy.

"How about you, Clarke?" Bellamy asks, fists resting on his hips.

I pick a song on my iPod and press play.

"Clarke?"

"Bell Baby," Raven interrupts with that ridiculous nickname for him. She shields her eyes from the sun so she can get a better look at her fiancé. _Her_ fiancé. "No one wants to go in!"

I sigh, knowing I should say something. I don't want to make a scene and make people suspicious. I can already feel Jasper's gaze on my back.

"I'm fine with getting some sun and, of course," I gesture vaguely at Finn, and both he and Bellamy's brows almost hit their hairlines. "The beer." I finish lamely. I sit up and finally make eye contact with Bellamy, grateful that he can't see the pain in my eyes behind my sunglasses.

"Speaking of which…" I trail off, pointing to my shadow-covered legs. "You're in my sun."

I know I sound like a bitch, and I even feel myself wincing at that last jab. It sounds like something Charlotte would say. Or even Raven. But it's for the best. I'm done with this, done with Bellamy. Watching them in the water, playing with each other and _flirting. _For the first time since we've started this _thing,_ I'm regretting ever sleeping with Bellamy. I know it's not fair – we promised we wouldn't talk about anything until July Fourth – but I just feel so betrayed. Which is ridiculous; _we're_ the ones going behind Raven's back, not the other way around. But I can't help how I feel, and what I feel right now is that it's over.

Bellamy's shadow slides off my legs and I turn my iPod up louder, blocking everything and everyone out. After a few minutes I chance a glance at Bellamy. He's sitting on the other side of Raven – who is chatting with Charlotte about the wedding, once again – staring out at the ocean. He has his sunglasses on and I can't tell what he's thinking. I bite my lip and turn away.

_It doesn't matter what he's thinking,_ I say to myself. _It's over._

My brain decides to torture me; glimpses of our time together flash through my mind, and I can almost _feel_ his smooth skin against mine. His soft lips behind my ear, on my collarbone. His curly hair sliding effortlessly through my fingers.

I grab the Corona and finish it in one gulp, resentment coursing through my veins. Finn asks if I want another. I pretend not to hear him, tapping my fingers against my hipbone to the beat of the song.

Yes, it's for the best.

* * *

Raven comes into mine and Octavia's room later that night. We are all getting ready to go to dinner; showering and freshening up after our afternoon on the beach. Raven made reservations for our group at an Italian restaurant just off the beach and I could not be happier – I'm in desperate need of carbs.

Raven sighs heavily and plops on one of the twin beds stuffed in the room. "Do you have any mascara I can borrow? I just ran out." She stretches her legs out and inspects her pedicure.

I turn away from the tiny mirror I propped up against the lamp on the dresser. Octavia is still in the shower so I'm stuck with my compact to do my makeup. I grab the thick black tube and hold it out. "Sure."

"Life-saver, girl!" Raven clutches the tube to her chest and sighs again, like she wants me to ask what's going on. I don't bite, instead focusing on perfecting my eyeliner. She sighs again and I grit my teeth.

"Do you need something else, Rae?" I keep my voice steady, the vision of her and Bellamy prancing around on the beach coming to the forefront of my mind again. I do my best to ignore it.

"Oh, nothing," she sighs out, this time laying down on the bed, her arms spread out.

Smooth swipes along the lash line –

"I just had mind-blowing sex," Raven blurts out.

I can't help it; my hand makes a quick jerking motion and I smear my eyeliner. _Perfect, just what I wanted: beach tourist with a black eye._

"Oh, yeah?" I say, doing my best to hide the fact that I completely fucked up my makeup. I take a deep breath – my fingers are still shaking.

"Oh, _yeah,"_ I can hear the Cheshire cat smirk in her voice. "Mind. Blowing." She lets out a laugh and I start to feel sick, clutching my poor eyeliner too tightly.

"Well… Congrats." I screw up my face in disbelief. _Congrats? Jesus, Clarke._

I hear her laugh again. "Why, thank you, darling." She pulls herself off the bed and heads to the door. Before she disappears down the hall, she turns back to me with a devilish smile. "You better not take too long on Finn, Clarke. You can have great sex, too. Maybe in the shower, like me." With a wink she's gone.

I picture their naked bodies together in the shower and wait for the hurt to come. Instead, all I feel is anger. I slowly put my eyeliner down before I break it in two.

Oh, it is _definitely_ over.

* * *

We arrive at the restaurant and take our seats around the large round table. I've done a pretty good job of ignoring Bellamy at the house and on the ride here. Unfortunately my ability to ignore him has ended at the restaurant, when the only open seat is right next to Bellamy.

Doing my best to act natural, I approach Octavia from behind and whisper in her ear before she fully sits down. "Switch with me."

Octavia turns to face me, her face bemused. "What?"

"Switch places with me. Please. I mean, don't you want to sit next to your brother?"

She studies my face for a few moments, her look of confusion still prevalent on her face. She glances Bellamy's way, but he's already sitting down and reading over the wine list.

Suddenly her face turns blank. "Okay," she says slowly, pushing her chair out and taking the seat next to Bellamy. As I take Octavia's original spot, I feel Bellamy's gaze on me, but he doesn't say anything.

Jasper, who is sitting on my other side, frowns. I ignore him and take a large gulp of the water that was placed in front of me.

Jasper leans in to me. "Jeez, you're such a Clarke-blocker." He can't help it; he chuckles at his own joke. If it were any other situation I would've laughed too, but I can still feel Bellamy's damn gaze on me and I can't think straight right now.

The waiter comes around to take our drink orders. Bellamy asks if anyone wants to share a couple of bottles of wine for the table and I can't help but let out a snort, the resentment coming back effortlessly.

Everyone looks up from their menus and I feel my cheeks redden. Bellamy raises his brows. "Clarke?" he asks, and I swallow. "Do you not want wine?"

"Oh, you guys can order wine all you want," I say, making a vague waving motion with my hand. "I'm just going to go a different direction." I make eye contact with the waiter. "I'd like a Grey Goose martini, straight up, dirty. Oh, and extra olives, please." I give the waiter one of my charming smiles and he meets it with a warm smile of his own.

Clearing my throat, I turns back to my menu and feel a finger poking my thigh. I look up and see Jasper's questioning gaze. "You okay?"

"Yep! Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I let out a laugh, cringing inwardly at how fake it sounds to my ears. "I have a weekend off for the first time in who knows how long and I'm spending it with my friends at the beach. I'm peachy. I'm _great._" I take another sip of water and chance a glance Bellamy's way. While everyone's looking a tad confused, Bellamy looks tense.

When everyone's drinks make it to the table (some chose wine, some went the direction I took and got some harder liquor) my bitterness is still bubbling on the surface. Bellamy's trying to convey words to me through his eyes, but I'm not looking his way anymore, instead focusing on the others at the table – even going so far as to laugh at Finn's jokes.

"Wait, wait!" I say, grabbing my martini and raising it high. The others do the same (Bellamy a little reluctantly). "A toast. To friends: old and new." I smile around the table. "And, of course, to fiancé's!" I continue on loudly, not caring that some people in the restaurant are turning around. I keep my eyes on Bellamy and Raven.

"May you both have an _incredible_ summer being each other's betrothed, and may you both have an even more _incredible_ life being each other's spouses." I straighten my arm holding the martini glass. "To Bellamy and Raven!"

"To Bellamy and Raven!" everyone echoes, taking their first drinks.

My first drink is more like kicking a shot back, and my eyes never leave Bellamy's the entire time. My eyes, my senses, my _body,_ is so attuned to Bellamy's that I don't notice Octavia's hard stare.

* * *

After dinner we head to a nearby bar that's complete with a DJ and dance floor. I've managed to get through dinner with little incident (no more embarrassing toasts, thank God) and am now standing at the counter getting beers for Octavia, Jasper and me. I feel someone approach on my left and I stiffen. Of course.

"Hey," Bellamy says lowly, imitating my relaxed demeanor and leaning against the counter. I feel the warmth from his arm on mine and pull away.

"Hello."

Bellamy gets the bartender's attention and orders two drinks – one Long Island Iced Tea and one Blue Moon. My eyes narrow. "What's going on?" he asks casually, but I can sense a bit of apprehension underneath.

"I don't know what you mean," I say darkly, turning away from him and instead focusing on the dance floor. My eyes land on Jasper trying and failing desperately to dance with Octavia. She doesn't seem to mind his horrible dance moves, however, as she lets out a soft, tinkling laugh and wraps an arm around his neck, her other one snaking behind his back. I swear I can almost hear Jasper's gulp of panic. I can't help but smile at the scene.

Bellamy's gaze follows mine and his eyes narrow. "Jasper and Octavia seem chummy lately."

I let out a derisive snort. "Yeah. Amazing, isn't it? Two single people enjoying each other's company and having a good time. No baggage or strings. A novel concept." I hear the bartender put the three bottles of beer down behind me and I turn sharply, plucking the bottles off the counter and heading toward the duo without a backwards glance.

I knew it was coming – Bellamy would never leave it at that – but my heart jumps anyway when I feel his firm grip on my bicep, pulling me back amongst the crowd.

His face is one of confusion. "What's wrong?" he asks in such a caring voice I almost cave. But the picture of Bellamy and Raven having sex in the shower flashes in my mind and I stay strong.

"Nothing's wrong," I spit out, jerking my arm out of his grip. Some of the beer from one of the bottles splashes over the lip. "Why would anything be wrong?"

The look changes to one of mild disbelief. "Are you pissed at me?"

"Nope," I pop the 'p' and I can feel the alcohol from the martinis I had at the restaurant and the beers here at the bar sloshing around my brain, but I can't stop the words from coming out. "I'm not _pissed_ at you. Not one bit. In fact, I couldn't care less about you. Or what goes on in your shower with Raven."

He winces at my acidic tone. "Clarke," he begins, but I shake my head and hold up the beer bottles as a makeshift barrier.

"I don't want to hear it. You had sex with Raven. Gave her the best sex in the world. An amazing feat. I never thought I'd ever meet the man who performs the best sex in the world, but here we are." I turn on my heel and continue to the dance floor.

Halfway to the dance floor the rational side of my brain kicks in. It takes a while, but it's there, telling me that I have no right to be mad at Bellamy. That all he did was have sex with his fiancée. His _fiancée_ for crying out loud. How can a rational person be angry with him about that? Besides, we made a deal – we're not discussing anything about our relationship (or whatever this is) until July Fourth. It's not fair to attack him like I did. We haven't made any promises, no declarations of… anything, really. So I should swallow my anger.

And yet, the other side of my brain wakes up, telling me that it doesn't make me any less hurt. That he is a man I've slept with – a few times. That he is a man whom I have some sort of feelings for. That seeing him with Raven cuts me, deep. That I am in an impossible situation and I put myself there. I just couldn't end it with the one-night stand. I wanted more, and Bellamy wanted more, so we took more. And here we are.

Well, no more. I am done. It's over.

Before I reach Jasper and Octavia, Bellamy's fingers are grasping my arm once again, only this time when I jolt I drop one of the beers. I just stare at the mess dejectedly, sighing heavily. I suddenly feel very tired, the alcohol in my system not mixing together nicely.

"Perfect," I mumble, glaring at the beer as if willing it to jump back in the bottle and into my hand.

"I'll buy you another one," Bellamy says quickly, the look of consternation back on his face. He tries to mask the guilt in his eyes, but I see it anyway. My displeasure is kicked up a few notches, and I bare my teeth.

"Don't bother," I bite out.

"Clarke, please understand. About Raven –"

"Hello, fine people!" Octavia suddenly appears beside us with a bright smile on her flushed face. When she reads the looks on our faces, her smile fades. "Whoa, weird vibe," she says cryptically, eyeing both of us. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Bellamy answers gruffly, his eyes still on me. "Clarke's just pissed I spilled her beer."

"Here," I shove the other two beers I managed to hold on to at Octavia. "You and Jasper can have these."

Octavia waits a few beats before taking the bottles off my hands. "Okay." She gives me one of those probing Blake sibling looks and I fidget under her gaze. _Just like her brother._

"You sure you're okay?" Octavia asks, glancing at her brother.

"Perfect," I manage a smile and smooth her hair back from her face. "I was just about to go look for Finn." I feel Bellamy stiffen beside me, but I refuse to look his way. "Have you seen him, O?"

"Um, last I saw he was chatting with Raven over there –" She gestures vaguely to a spot of the bar behind the dance floor.

"Great, thanks O!" I give her a quick peck on the cheek and head the way she mentioned, being on the lookout for a head of floppy brown hair.

_This is good, _I say to myself, taking a deep breath. _It's over with Bellamy, and I am moving on._

When I spot Finn in the corner chatting with Raven and Charlotte, he chooses that moment to look up and lock eyes with me. His face breaks out into a huge, boyish grin, and I reciprocate with a smile of my own. _Sweet Finn._

Sweet Finn with the irresistible smile and the warm, kind hands and the lack of fiancée.

That's exactly what I need right now.


	15. Gift

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **Ugh, school is _killer_ right now. Sorry about the late update, but here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

"This is certainly quite interesting."

I slap my lunch menu down on the table and send a glare Jasper's way. He tries to ignore me; his eyes are staring hard at his own menu, but I can see him trying to fight the smile that's threatening to appear. I roll my eyes.

"It is not 'quite interesting,' Jas," I mumble, picking the menu up once again. "In fact, it's the opposite of interesting. It's…" I bite my lip.

"Interesting," he finishes for me. "I mean, sure, it's one thing to get in an argument. But Clarke, you got pissed at him for sleeping with Raven. His _fiancée._ You basically told him that it's _wrong_ for him to sleep with her."

"Doesn't matter anymore," I bite out. "I'm done. It's over."

"You sure about that?"

I send him another glare as the waitress comes by with our drinks. "Yes, I am."

"Okay." Jasper puts his hands up in mock surrender before grabbing two sugar packets to dump in his iced tea. "New subject?"

"Yes, please," I breathe out.

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, occasionally breaking it to ask what the other is ordering for lunch. When the waitress comes back to take our orders and the menus off our hands, I thread my fingers together and rest my chin on them, a small smile gracing my lips. "So, how's Octavia?"

"Wha –" Jasper's hand jerks on the table, sending his fork to the floor. Blushing furiously, he bends down to pick it up, and I can't help but laugh.

"Oh, Jasper…" I trail off, reaching over to pat his hand sympathetically. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

"I do not 'have it bad'," Jasper says quickly, rolling his eyes and trying to look at ease. His cheeks betray him once more; they're flushed a brilliant shade of pink.

"Look at you!" I hold back my laugh this time and simply smile. "I haven't seen you blush like this since junior high!"

"Can you stop, please?" he begs, swirling the straw in his iced tea with a bit too much vigor, causing an ice cube to slip over the lip of the glass and on the tablecloth. He doesn't bother cleaning up the mess; sighing deeply and slumping in his chair. I wait.

He runs a hand through his hair. "I can't help it, Clarke," he starts, refusing to make eye contact with me and instead staring at the melting ice cube. "This is all going to sound horribly cliché, but –" He takes a deep breath. "But she's totally different from anyone I've known. She's warm and kind; she speaks about the kids she teaches like they're her own or something. She's exciting, she's funny. Her wit is sharper than even my own, if that's at all possible –"

"Didn't think it was." I smile behind my own glass of iced tea.

"And she's _gorgeous, _isn't she? Just gorgeous," Jasper trails off, gazing at a spot over my shoulder. Laughing, I nudge him with my foot under the table and he jolts back to reality.

"Yes, she's insanely gorgeous," I agree. "But I want you to be careful."

He rests his questioning eyes on me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, she lives in LA. She's here for a while visiting her brother, but then she'll head back." I send him a sympathetic smile. "Sure, she misses Bellamy, but she loves her job – and her life – in LA."

Jasper's eyes turn downcast for a few moments, processing. Fiddling with the fork that he sent clattering to the ground minutes before, he sighs heavily and finally meets my gaze once more, an almost too-bright smile gracing his features.

"I know this, Clarke. Besides, there's no indication that she even likes me, so no big deal, okay?" His smile doesn't change. "It's summer! Aren't we supposed to be having fun?"

I sigh deeply, fiddling with my own cutlery and thinking of Bellamy. "Yeah…"

Somehow knowing where my thoughts are, Jasper pokes my arm. "Of course, you seem to be having fun for the both of us, eh?" He waggles his brows, and I send him a glare. He winces.

"Or… Had." He clears his throat. "Shit."

"Like I said, it's for the best," I say matter-of-factly, trying to convince myself as much as Jasper.

* * *

When I finally get home from the hospital, it is well past midnight and I'm about to fall asleep standing up. My mind is so hazy from the busy day; after taking the weekend off I've been doing my best to catch up with my patients and making sure to take as many surgeries as I can snatch up. The hospital board is going to be performing interviews with the candidates for Chief Resident in the next few weeks, and I want to make sure I am well prepared and have plenty of experience under my belt.

I'm so exhausted after my long day that I almost trip over the box that's on my doorstep. With a yelp I bang my shoulder against my front door and drop my keys on the box, the sound a dull _thump_ against the cardboard.

"What the hell –?" Rubbing my hurt shoulder, I squint down at the box and pick up my keys. Seeing my handwritten name on top, I bend over to pick up the box and manage to open my door with one hand.

I flood the living room with light and walk over to my couch, plopping down heavily. Since the box only has my name written in block letters – and no return address – the person who gave this to me had to have dropped it off personally. Frowning, I slide the box on the coffee table and head to the kitchen to get a knife, my mind spinning. I rarely get packages, unless it has the word 'Amazon' on the top. I grab one of the dull bread knives I have in the drawer and approach the box.

I give myself a few moments to try and guess who it could be from. Since it was hand-delivered, it has to be from someone I know. Jasper? Octavia, maybe? Raven would never leave something on someone's doorstep, remembering a conversation we once had about how there's too many criminals and thieves in New York, and how if she has something delivered she _always_ requires a signature.

"Leaving a giant box on your doorstep is just _asking_ for trouble, Clarke," Raven had said. "_And_ for jerk wads to come on in and steal your valuables!"

Taking a deep breath, curiosity chasing away my exhaustion for a moment, I slide the knife under the tape and jerk it forward, the small _snap_ of the tape breaking echoing in the silent room. Ripping the rest of it off the box, I unfold the cardboard and peer inside, eyebrows shooting up.

Inside is another box, however; this one is covered in shiny gold wrapping paper that says _Happy Birthday!_ all around it. It's furnished with a giant blue bow and a folded note with my name on it – handwritten in the same block letters.

Intrigued, I grab for the note first, a small smile on my face. I told my friends that I didn't want any gifts; that the party was more than enough for my birthday. However, the memo may not have stretched to everyone, and for a fleeting moment I think that the present is from Finn.

As soon as I open the note, the thoughts of Finn flutter away – as well as my smile.

_Clarke,_

_I know you said no presents, but I saw this in an art supply store and immediately thought of you. I couldn't walk away without getting it. I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but as you know, things happened, and it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry I got it to you so late._

_I want to talk to you about last weekend. I am so sorry. I know it went horribly, and you have every right to be angry. I need to see you. Please call me. I don't want this to end._

_Enjoy the gift._

_B_

Hands trembling, I drop the note on the table and pull out the golden box, my fingers caressing the glossy paper for a few seconds before ripping it apart. I unveil a beautiful cherry wood box. Unlatching the box, I look inside to see a set of oil paints in ten different colors as well as a couple of brushes. I exhale a soft laugh, running my fingers across the tubes of paint before feeling the smooth wood that encases them. My eyes clouding with unshed tears, I finish unwrapping the gift to find a set of sketching pencils and charcoal sticks and a brand new sketch book.

I let the tears fall now, still in shock that Bellamy did this for me. That he remembered after all this time.

Leaning back against the couch, I clutch Bellamy's incredible gift to my chest and think about the night I happened to mention my secret love of art to him. It was our first year of med school, and we were at my apartment for a long night of studying. After four painful hours, my stomach couldn't handle it and growled its displeasure. Laughing, Bellamy suggested that we order some pizza and take a break.

Dramatically dropping my pencil on the table, I heaved a great sigh and rubbed my stomach. "I am all for that. Both my brain and my stomach are protesting."

I watched Bellamy push himself off the floor and do his best to not step on all of our notes and papers strewn across my tiny living room. He grabbed for my phone on the kitchen counter. "Any preferences?"

"I'm up for whatever, as long as it's on the coupon page that's on the fridge."

Bellamy turned his head to see one of the only things I tacked to my fridge: a giant, colorful page of pizza coupons from a nearby place called _Rigoberto's_. Several coupons were already cut out, so it looked like a flat piece of multi-colored Swiss cheese.

Bellamy slid the magnet off the sheet and smirked my way, eyebrows raised. "Like pizza, do we?"

"I like cheap," I shot back, pushing myself off the couch and meeting him in the kitchen. He held the page up to his shoulder so I could see the coupons better. I squinted at the limited choices, frowning. "Damn, I used up all the good ones."

"My stomach feels like it's going to eat itself, so I'm all for quantity over quality," Bellamy said, pointing at one of the small squares that had a deal for $5 off a large pepperoni. "This okay?"

"Well, Mr. Blake, you've picked the right place, because Rigoberto's is definitely not known for its quality!" I laughed at the look he sent me. "Yes, pepperoni is great."

After ordering the pizza, Bellamy plopped down on the couch while I opened the fridge for something to drink. "Want a beer?"

"Sure," he called back. I pulled out two bottles of Blue Moon and heard Bellamy groan loudly from the living room. When I met him at the couch I couldn't help but laugh. He had an arm slung over his face, shielding his eyes. He let out another dramatic groan as I sat down beside him, knocking his arm with one of the bottles.

"Here, this'll help," I tapped his arm once more.

Bellamy pulled his arm back and took the beer, immediately taking a large gulp. He pulled the bottle back to study the label, a soft, surprised look on his face.

"Hey, this is pretty good," he said, nodding.

Taking a sip myself, I clicked my tongue and shook my head. "You've never had Blue Moon?" I asked.

"Nope," he said simply, taking another sip.

"For shame," I scolded lightly, poking his shoulder. "It's better with an orange slice, but I ate my last one with lunch." I turned the bottle in my hands to study my own label. "I love Blue Moon. Basically all I buy," I chuckled softly. "I really should branch out."

"Hey, stick with what you know," Bellamy said, smiling.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking our beers and enjoying each other's company. I was about to ask if he wanted to see if there was anything on TV until he suddenly spoke.

"Hey," he said softly, turning to face me on the couch. "If you weren't in med school, what would you be doing?"

"What?" I asked, laughter filling my voice. When he didn't repeat the question – just pinned me down with a deep look – I took a quick swig of my beer and tore my eyes from his.

"Um," I shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there has to be something else you're interested in. Something that you love. I'm sure you've been thinking about being a doctor your whole life, right?"

"You have no idea," I mumbled under my breath. Bellamy grinned slowly.

"Okay, but if something happened – for some reason you couldn't be a doctor, or whatever – what would you do?"

I tried to stall by picking at the label on my beer, chewing on my lip. Bellamy waited patiently. He was always good at that.

"I don't know," I felt my face turning red and I turned it away from him, shrugging once again. "I haven't really thought about it."

"No hobbies or anything? You've never had a back-up plan?"

"Med school has always been the goal. Being a doctor has always been the goal," I said with almost a robotic tone to it. I winced after the words left my mouth.

"Okay, I'll start," he said in that soft voice I couldn't help but love. "If I wasn't going to be a doctor, I'd be a teacher."

"A teacher?" I asked incredulously.

"A history teacher, to be more specific."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He took another sip of beer. "When we were kids – me and Octavia, I mean –"

"Your sister?"

"Yep." His lips turned up, as if just the thought of his sister brought a smile to his face. I couldn't help but smile as well. "When we were kids, my mother would read to us all the time. At first it was the normal children's stories, but over time she began to read us stories of history. My favorites were always the ones about Greek Mythology. I don't know if it was the actual stories or the way she told them, but I loved them anyway. Over time I would read all the history books I could get my hands on."

"What changed?" I asked with a low voice. I almost didn't want to interrupt his story – his voice was so melodic whenever he talked like that – but curiosity got the better of me.

He shrugged, taking a deep breath and meeting my gaze once again. "Life." He left it at that, and I didn't push.

Knowing that he shared something close to his heart with me, I decided to try and do the same for him. I leaned forward to put my beer on the coffee table, sighing heavily. Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans, I turned back to him. He stayed silent, simply waiting for me.

"I've always wanted to be an artist."

Bellamy nodded, processing.

"In my free time – if I ever have it – I unwind by sketching."

"Sketching," he repeated.

"Yeah." I sighed again. "It soothes me. At first it started on just random scraps of paper. The margins of my notes in school, on napkins… But one day I was passing this art store, and I decided to buy a sketchbook. It couldn't hurt to have a little collection. Some of my stuff was just doodles, but I liked the others I had."

I grabbed my beer once again. "So far I've just done drawings. I've started to use charcoal as well. But now with med school and the craziness that is my life, I haven't sketched in – wow, months, I think." I turned back to Bellamy and there was something in his eyes I couldn't place. But just as quickly as I saw it, it was gone, and he took another swig of beer, finishing it off.

I cleared my throat. "I'd like to experiment with paints someday. I hear oil paints are great for landscapes."

"That's what you like to draw?"

"Mostly. I've been trying to do portraits as well." I stared blankly at the dark TV screen in front of me, remembering. "One time, when I first moved here, I went to Washington Square Park because it was such a beautiful day. I took my sketchbook and some pencils, not really knowing what I was going to draw. I found an empty bench and just sat there for a while, people watching. That's another favorite pastime of mine," I turned and sent Bellamy a coy smile. "I like to watch people and play this game where I create a life for them. What their names are, what they do, where they live… It's more fun to play with someone, because you can bounce ideas off each other. I used to play it a lot with my best friend Raven when we were younger.

"Anyway, I just sat there for a while, enjoying the day, when I saw this elderly couple sitting on another bench a little ways away. They had a bag of breadcrumbs and were feeding the ducks that congregated there. They looked so peaceful and happy; like they've been doing it for years – together. Instead of playing the game I usually play, I took out my sketchbook and just drew them." I smiled warmly at the memory. "It was the first time I tried a portrait."

I felt Bellamy shift next to me. "Can I see it?" he asked lowly.

I felt like I was in some kind of trance; the air in my living room felt thick and I swore I could almost hear the electricity crackling. Unsure of why this was happening, I swallowed a bit noisily and nodded. "Sure," I whispered.

I rose off the couch slowly and disappeared into my room. When I found my sketchbook – buried under several medical books and notepads on the lower shelf of my bookcase – I rejoined Bellamy on the couch and flipped it open to the drawing I described to him, holding it out to him with only a hint of hesitation. For some reason after the shift in the conversation, I felt more comfortable with him. Safe.

He took the book from me and studied the drawing, his eyes flitting across the page with impressive speed. When he was satisfied, he raised his eyes and gave me a warm smile that I felt to my toes.

"This is great, Clarke," he said, running his fingers along the edge. "Don't quit on this."

I lifted my shoulders slightly. "I do what I can, but like I said, classes are killer."

He hummed softly, lifting the edge of the page to see if there was anything behind it. There wasn't; the elderly couple was the last thing I drew. "May I?" he asked.

I felt my throat tighten up. I haven't shown these drawings to anyone before; not my mother, not even Raven. If they asked (if they even knew about the sketchbook) I would've come up with some lame excuse to make sure they never saw them. Tell them they're not finished, or they're not good. But with Bellamy, it was so simple. Not only was I going to let him see my drawings, but I _wanted_ him to.

After I nodded, he flipped the pages so he could start at the very beginning. He gave each drawing its due; studying it like he was at an art museum and even tracing some of the graphite lines with the tips of his fingers. Just like what I would do when I would finish a drawing.

After his eyes fell upon the couple in the park once more, he closed the book and handed it back to me. He nodded at it before meeting my gaze. "Don't quit on that," he said again, almost like a request, and I couldn't help but nod in affirmation. I clutched the book to my chest.

Just when I thought I couldn't breathe anymore – the look Bellamy was giving me seemed to take away my ability – there were three sharp knocks on the door and a voice called out, "Pizza!"

Bellamy dragged his hand across his face and stood up, grabbing the coupon off the counter as well as his wallet. It took me a few times, but I finally found my voice. "Hey, I can get it."

He shook his head, smiling, and suddenly the air felt light again. "No worries, you got the beer. Besides," He held up the little coupon square with an exaggerated look of surprise on his face. "Five bucks off? What a deal!"

I giggled as he pulled open the door and gave the delivery kid on the other side a few bills with the coupon perched on top. "Keep the change."

After a quick thank you and "Have a nice night!" Bellamy kicked the door closed and slid the pizza on the coffee table, ignoring the notes and books that were still covering the top.

Before he took a seat, he glanced at the entrance to the kitchen. "Any more Blue Moons?" he asked, a small smile gracing his features.

"Ha!" I exclaimed, laughing. "I knew it; I got you hooked!"

His small smile grew and turned warm. "Yes, Princess, I think you did."

I groaned, covering my face in horror. "Yeah, no. Never participating in Halloween ever again."

"Come on, it was cute!" Bellamy called in a sing-song voice as he opened the fridge door.

"Shut up!" I replied in the same voice, starting without him and grabbing a slice.

After that night I never mentioned sketching or wanting to play with paints to Bellamy again. That was over six years ago. Either he has an amazing memory, or _he's_ that amazing.

Now, back in my living room, I'm clenching the box so tightly my knuckles turn white. Choking on a sob, I shove the box of paints – as well as the sketching tools and sketchbook – back into the larger cardboard box that has my name on it and flip it closed. After calming my trembling hands I stand up and head to my room to retire for the night, flipping the lights off and leaving the living room – as well as Bellamy's gift – in total darkness.


	16. Forgive

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

**A/N: **Oh man, I'm so sorry! School has been kicking my ass. Royally kicking it. I've been working on two projects and a term paper. Not fun in the slightest (well, actually, they _are_ fun, but time-consuming). I have a few weeks left of classes this term, so it'll lighten up and I will hopefully have more time to devote to this story. I've also been freaking out because I've been so good with staying ahead on my chapters, but because I've been so busy (and, admittedly, losing momentum) I'm catching up and I'm like "Oh, no! I have to get new material out!" In other words, I'm trying y'all, I really am!

I also want to say a big, fat, ginormous THANK YOU to everyone that reads, comments, gives kudos, etc. on this story. It's amazing that so many of you like it, and I'm happy to continue with it and make people happy. With that being said, please please PLEASE bear with me as I struggle through these last few weeks of hell.

Oh, and I'm also sorry... that this is... such a... short chapter. *BEAMS BRIGHTLY IN APOLOGY*

All mistakes are mine!

* * *

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

My resolve broke the night he left my birthday present on my doorstep.

I know it's wrong; my brain keeps telling me to just let Bellamy go and move on. That he's getting married in September and nothing's going to change that. That Raven's my best friend and no matter how exasperating she is, she doesn't deserve something like this to happen to her. That I'm not this girl, and Bellamy's not this man. We don't cheat. I've never cheated on anything in my life, ever. One time, in high school, this kid named John Murphy tried to copy off my algebra test and I remember being so shocked. I didn't say anything, but I tried to cover my calculations so he couldn't get a good look. Unfortunately for him, the teacher noticed and sent him to the principal's office. I remember watching him go, letting out a huff of indignation and saying to myself, _that's what you get, mister._

What if Bellamy and I get caught? What if we get caught and our lives just implode around us? I think about how Raven would take it. She would never talk to either of us again. Her aunt would be so disappointed; she has always liked Bellamy and has said on more than one occasion that she's glad that Raven's finally found her 'family.'

I can't even imagine what my mother and her husband, Marcus, would say. Disappointment would be the least of it. I can already see my mother's stern face. She has a knack for making me feel guilty for whatever I did wrong (or would potentially do wrong) with just one withering stare. It's why I would never defy her; I could never stand to be on the receiving end of that look.

But then there's the other side of the story – the one my heart keeps telling. The one where I've never felt like this before, with anyone. Not with Austin, definitely not with Zack. Bellamy's one of my best friends, and I've always cared for him. Not to mention Octavia, whom I love as much as if she were my own sister.

Ever since my birthday, my feelings for Bellamy have been growing; and while I believe it's not love, it's definitely heading in that direction. How can I turn away and get over something I've never experienced before? What if this is it? What if he is the one for me, and him being with Raven isn't supposed to be a forever thing? I used to think of the word 'affair' as a scary word; a word that brings the thoughts of fire and brimstone and someone yelling in one of those deep, evangelical voices: _you DARE break one of the Lord's Commandments?_

Maybe it's just me being in denial, but this doesn't feel like an affair. The feelings I have for him are real, and true, and even though the weekend in the Hamptons was horrible, I believe his feelings for me are real, too. Why else would he give me that present? And that note? Didn't it say something along the lines of not giving this up?

_I don't want this to end._

_I don't want this to end, either,_ I think to myself.

So the day after I received the gift, I called him and let him know he could come over anytime. He asked if tonight was all right. I mean, he said, if you're sure you want me there…

I told him of course I want him here. I could almost hear his relief over the phone.

When I hear the knock on my door, I am fiddling with making some tea in my kitchen. I'm not normally a tea kind of person, but I ran out of coffee and I needed to do something with my hands. Plus, having caffeine in this situation seems like a bad idea.

Dropping the kettle back on the stove with a bit more force than necessary, I wipe my clammy hands on my pants and go to answer the door. Bellamy, thankfully, looks just as nervous on the other side. I rake my eyes over his form, drinking him in; it feels like ages since I've seen him. He's wearing a relaxed outfit; dark jeans and a green Henley with the first couple of buttons undone, showing off a flash of his collarbone. He slides one of his hands in his jeans pocket while the other is clutching a lone flower – a sunflower. I almost burst into a fit of laughter at the sight. Where on earth did he get a sunflower?

"I'm glad you called," Bellamy says, holding out the flower, a small but tense smile on his face. "This is for you."

I smile back, taking the flower from his fingers. "Thanks." I open the door wider. "Come in," I gesture to my living room, and he slips in, both hands slipping into his pockets. I study him while I close the door; he seems unsure of what to do. I start.

"Sunflower, huh?" I let out a small laugh that sounds more like an exhale, twirling the stem between my fingers. He smirks.

"They're your favorite," he shrugs.

"Yes they are, but how did you know –"

"You told me once," he says, walking further into my place, looking around as if he's never been here before.

I follow. "Yeah," I trail off. "In passing, though. How do you remember these kinds of things?" I try and make the question sound light, but my voice is doing that breathy thing again. Damn it.

He turns away from one of the windows overlooking the street and levels me with a heavy stare. "I remember everything about you, Clarke."

Suddenly my throat feels extremely dry and I forget how to swallow. Trying to stall for time until I can find my voice, I use the sunflower that's still clutched between my fingers and gesture toward the box that still houses my present. "I can see that," I say lowly.

He follows my gaze and smiles warmly. So warmly I feel my fingers tingle. "I figured you still haven't experimented with paints yet. That's me giving you a gentle push."

His face sobers. "Clarke…"

I gulp when he closes the space between us, reaching tentatively for my hands and grasping them in his, the flower teetering on the brink of falling from my fingers and on the coffee table. "I'm so sorry. About everything," he whispers, tilting his head down. "The Hamptons wasn't the best…"

I can't help but let out a dark chuckle. "No, not really." I let the flower drop to get a better grip on his fingers, threading them together. "But, I'm sorry, too."

He pulls his head up, surprise in his eyes. "What do you have to be sorry about?"

"I got so angry with you. About things," I bite my lip, looking away. "You didn't deserve that, you didn't do anything wrong. All you did was spend the weekend with you fiancée." I squeeze his hands. "It's not fair to you to just blow up like that. We said we wouldn't talk about – this, until the Fourth."

Bellamy shakes his head, his eyes sad. "It's not fair to you, either, Clarke. I want you to know –" He breaks off, swallowing deeply, and I watch the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, not ready to make eye contact.

"I want you to know that this isn't just some 'thing' for me."

I nod, still staring at the spot of revealed skin below his neck. He pulls me closer to his body, releasing my hands and resting his on my waist tentatively. I look up.

"I care for you, Clarke. This – us – is the real deal for me. I care so fucking deeply for you and it's insane that I feel like this after such a short time being together, but there it is. I meant what I said in that note; I don't want this to end.

"I also want to explain the weekend. With Raven."

I know he's talking about their show on the beach. He's probably talking about their sex-capade in the shower as well. I shake my head and try to pull away, but he won't let me.

"Raven initiated it; I've been trying to put it off for so long –"

"It's okay," I try to give him a reassuring smile, but I'm afraid it comes off as a grimace, so I try and twist my lips into some semblance of normalcy. "Like I said, she's your fiancée." I leave it at that. He nods slowly, tightening his grip on my hips.

He can tell there's something else bothering me, though, because he tilts his head to try and read my eyes. He's known me for too long; he can read me so well. "Clarke?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears I can feel forming in the back of them to go away. "It's just –" I pause, swallowing. "It was hard. Seeing you two. On the beach…"

"Yeah," Bellamy nods, knowing. "I knew you were pissed about that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He gives me a sad smile, running his hands up my arms and rubbing my shoulders. "You basically ignored me; you were talking to Finn, laughing and smiling with him…" I watch his jaw clench, his eyes darken slightly.

I shake my head and am about to explain Finn when he begins again. "And you told me I was blocking your sun," he says, his smile no longer sad, but amused.

I let out a soft snort. "Well, I didn't want an uneven tan."

He laughs, and my heart soars. "Now _that_ would be a tragedy," he says, plopping down on the couch and pulling me with him. After searching my eyes and seeing only warmth, he leans in for a chaste kiss.

When he pulls back, he reaches up to frame my face with his warm hands. Rubbing the apples of my cheeks with his thumbs, he kisses the corner of my mouth and sighs deeply.

"You mean so much to me, Clarke," he whispers into my ear, and his voice makes me shiver.

"I know," I reply, dropping a kiss on the part of his neck that's exposed by his Henley.

"I just need you to know that –"

"Hey," I interrupt softly, now framing his face with my hands. "July Fourth, okay? We don't have to talk about this now."

"Clarke," he says, and I try to ignore the way he says my name – with a hint of sadness. "We don't have to wait –"

I hush him with my thumb, rubbing the digit across his lips. I smile when he presses a kiss to it. "Not now."

July Fourth is coming up in rapid fashion, and I'm terrified of it. I'm terrified that it'll come and we won't have figured out what this actually is. On the other hand, I'm terrified that we _will_ have figured it out, and that momentous decision will lead us to lose so much, even though we'll have gained each other. Throughout my relationship with Bellamy, I've thought about getting caught by Raven; how she'd react, what she would say, what she would _do._ But I don't think I've truly grasped what I could lose when it comes to her. A twenty-five-year-old friendship, for one thing. My best friend; the one I'd go to for everything throughout my life. The sister I've never had.

As much as I'm not ready to lose Bellamy, I'm not ready to lose Raven, either.

I ask Bellamy if he wants something to eat, since it's past dinner time. I think I have a box of leftover Chinese food, I say. He shakes his head, saying he'd rather take me to bed, already pulling himself off the couch and taking me with him. I laugh when he swings me in close, pulling my body flush against him, his mouth hot against mine. When we make it to my bed, the kisses are rushed, intense. Hands are everywhere, the air is thick.

And suddenly I have another thing to check off the list of Amazing Things about Bellamy Blake: the make-up sex is unbelievable.

* * *

**A/N:** *dodges flying keyboards, chairs, fruit, etc.*

Man, things are complicated. I will admit: this is probably not what you wanted to see, but it's necessary, I swear. I will also admit that I'm most likely trash.


	17. Divulge

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own THE 100 or any of the characters herein. That luxury belongs to The WB and The CW. I'm just a fan that likes to play in the world.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

I'm doing my best to inhale a granola bar before I check in with one of my post-op patients when I see Octavia at the end of the hall. Pleasantly surprised to see her, I finish chewing with a small smile on my face and go to greet her.

"Hey, O," I call out, watching her turn on her heel to meet my eyes. My steps falter slightly when I see the look on her face. Her eyes are hooded, and there's something off about the way she's holding herself. She tilts her head when I get closer, her hands closed into fists, resting against her hipbones.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, a bit wary now with the vibe she's giving off.

"I came to see my best friend." Octavia shifts on her feet, slowly swaying. She squints her eyes, like she's studying me, and it makes me uneasy. I do my best to swallow subtly, ignoring the feel of stray pieces of granola sticking to the back of my throat. I should've gotten a bottle of water.

"You busy right now?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Um," I bite my lip, glancing down at the patient's file that's in my hand. "Kind of," I say slowly.

She waves her hand in the air, a sort of vague dismissal. "I'm sorry, of course you're busy. I was hoping to catch you near the end of your shift or something."

"No," I take a deep breath, relax my shoulders. "I just need to check up on one of my post-op patients, then I'm free to head home."

Octavia smiles, and the feeling I had when I first saw her strange demeanor is gone and I breathe easier. "I'll wait for you. We can grab a late dinner."

"Okay. Meet you here in a bit." With a final wave, I turn on my heel and head off to see my patient.

* * *

When I find Octavia again, she's sitting in one of the waiting room chairs and flipping through an old issue of _People Magazine_. Hearing my approach, she smiles and tosses the magazine on the table. "Ready?"

I nod, and she links her arm with mine, leading me out of the hospital.

"So," I begin, hitching my purse up so it's not sliding off my shoulder. "You said something about food?" At the thought, I feel my stomach rumble.

She sends me a sideways look. "Yes…" She trails off, and my eyebrows raise.

"O?"

Looking around, Octavia unlinks our arms and pulls me to the edge of the sidewalk, away from the small bustle of people that is still out, despite it being a Thursday night. We are leaning against the large window of a higher end boutique called La Luna Loca, and there is a beautiful scarf in the window display that catches my eye.

My nerves are frazzled because of Octavia's behavior, so I try to diffuse the feeling by pointing the garment out. "Hey, that scarf sure is gorgeous –"

"Clarke," she interrupts me, and I close my mouth with a small click.

"What's the deal with you and Bellamy?"

I've known Octavia for several years – since med school when Bellamy introduced us during one winter break – so I know that she likes to beat around the bush and get to the nitty-gritty. I also know that she's too intuitive for her own good; she has a sort of sixth sense when it comes to reading people.

Even after knowing all this, her question still jars me. I feel my heart rate speed up to an uncomfortable pace and my hands begin to shake. My breath catches and I look every which way; doing my best to avoid her piercing stare that makes her look just like her brother.

I've thought about this moment many times; however, it's always been with Raven. Maybe that's why Octavia's question startles me. For some strange reason I've never pictured getting busted by anyone else _but_ Raven. During my daydreams, I'd see myself in my living room with Bellamy, most likely locked in a heavy make-out session that's about to take us to my bedroom. Suddenly there's a knock at the door, and for some wild reason I don't ignore it. For some reason I don't ignore it, don't look through the peephole, and don't fix myself up (because no doubt I'd already have love bites along my neck and my lips red from exertion).

I'd open the door, and Raven would be on the other side, her eyes wide, taking it all in. She'd see my debauched state, see Bellamy on the couch in a similar fashion, his eyes just as wide. She'd probably scream a few choice words before booking it down my steps and back on the street. Bellamy would jump off the couch, grabbing his shoes and trying to button up his shirt, calling after her. And I'd be left there, alone, still in shock and still holding the door open.

I also had a strange daydream of Raven and I walking into my brownstone and Bellamy being there, half-naked, waiting for me. He'd jump off the couch, letting out a rather un-Bellamy-like shriek and cover himself by crossing his arms over his bare chest. Of course, there's no way Bellamy would do something like that, and I chalked that crazy thought to my lack of sleep and horrible diet of poor coffee and leftovers.

But, like I said, those all involved Raven finding out, not _Octavia. _Octavia, one of my best friends, someone I care for so much and has become like family to me. I guess I could never imagine disappointing her; I like to think that she looks up to me, that I've become a sort of mentor to her.

But she's staring at me now, leaning against La Luna Loca's window with her brows slightly raised, her eyes giving away nothing. During the silence and my internal struggle I've managed to work myself up pretty well; my hands are clammy and I feel the tears coming, but I do my best to keep them at bay. I wonder if it's even worth it to try and make up a lie. She knows me too well.

Swallowing thickly, I manage to find my voice. It sounds deflated. I only manage a choked "Octavia…" before she takes pity on me, her eyes softening and an arm snaking across my shoulders.

"Come on…"

* * *

We are back at my house, several boxes of delivered Chinese food littering the coffee table. Octavia is sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch and I'm lounging across the matching chair, my legs dangling over the armrest and my head resting along the other one. I heave a deep sigh, poking around the box of Kung Pao Chicken, deciding on whether or not to take another bite. I feel Octavia poke one of my sock-clad feet.

"You're hoarding the Kung Pao." She stretches a hand out, her fork tucked between her fingers, making the universal _gimme_ motion. I relent the take-out box, and she swaps it with the box of Beef and Broccoli.

"So," O starts, but leaves it at that, giving the chicken in her hand a pretty good stare-down.

"So," I repeat, stabbing a piece of broccoli and chewing slowly.

"This is –" She stops, trying to find a good enough word for everything I just unloaded on her. About Bellamy; from my birthday, to the beach, to our nights together (nothing too graphic – it _is_ her brother, after all). "Unreal."

"To say the least," I mutter under my breath, taking a rather big bite of beef.

Octavia taps the end of her fork to her chin. "So what is this? It's not just a fling, right?"

"No!" I can't even fathom what Bellamy and I have as being remotely close to a 'fling.'

"So you have real feelings for him?"

It's amazing; Octavia is being so objective about all of this. Which is something I really need right now. I study her face; it's mostly blank, but I can tell she's genuinely interested in the answer to her question. I also think she needs all the information she can gather before she makes an informed decision.

Huh, it's like she's a second-grade teacher or something…

"Yes," I sigh, sliding the Beef and Broccoli on the coffee table with the rest of the take-out boxes. "I definitely have real feelings for him. O, I haven't felt like this about anyone, ever."

I adjust myself on the chair to get more comfortable, groaning. "That's why this is so fucked up!" I say, exasperated. "I care about him, so much. But what about Raven?"

"What about Raven?" she asks.

I shoot her a look. She rolls her eyes.

"Okay, obviously I'm not a huge fan of the woman, but if you feel for him like you say you do…"

"I do," I say firmly.

"And Bellamy feels the same way?"

I bite my lip, thinking about our times together. The e-mail, our first kiss, the first time we slept together, the birthday present and note…

"Yes," I breathe out.

"Has he said anything about breaking off the engagement?"

Shit.

"We…" _Shit._

"We…" Octavia makes a spinning motion with her hand, urging me to continue.

"We haven't talked about that."

The first hint of something finally flashes in her eyes – not judgment, but in the same realm. "You haven't talked about it?"

"We made a deal that we wouldn't discuss anything until the Fourth of July."

"Why?"

I shrug. "Arbitrary."

Octavia lets out a heavy sigh, leaning her head back on the couch. I watch her face contort into different faces as she processes everything. Suddenly her head snaps up. "Do you think that he will break it off?"

I open my mouth to respond, but then close it. Ah, the million-dollar question.

"I don't know."

She nods, her face turning a bit harsh, glaring at the bag of eggrolls.

"I'm still on the fence about that," I add, patting the bun I put my hair in as soon as I got home.

She looks at me, confused. "Why?" she asks again.

"Why else? Raven. She is my best friend, and I _am_ her maid of honor."

She rolls her eyes, pushing a harsh breath of air between her teeth.

"I can't even imagine what this would do to her," I say.

"She'd get over it," O says simply, a sarcastic smirk gracing her features.

"O…"

"Look." Octavia pulls her feet in from under the table, tucking them under her thighs. "Okay, you caught me. Like I said, I'm not a huge fan of Raven. But only because I _know_ she's not for Bellamy, and only because I've known that _you_ are the one for him ever since I was eighteen and he introduced you in that adorably geeky way."

I blush, remembering the day I met Octavia. Bellamy accidentally introduced me as "his Clarke" before he had to backtrack and say "I mean, my _friend_ Clarke. Not _my_ Clarke. Friend. Clarke. Sister. Octavia. Anyway, who wants pizza?"

I let out a small laugh at the memory. "He was blushing for a while after that."

"And I've never seen him blush like that before, nor after." Octavia leans forward, her elbows resting on the table.

"Look," she begins again. "I know you. You are too kind for your own good. You would never intentionally hurt someone, especially your friends."

I look down at this, plucking at a stray thread on my sock.

"But," she says, her voice strong. "Life isn't that simple. Things are not black-and-white. You're struggling with this because you have genuine feelings for my brother. If you guys were just fooling around, all willy-nilly, that's one thing. I'd probably be pissed about that, because that's not who my brother is. Nor is that who you are." She reaches out and rests her hand on my outstretched foot, stilling my hand that's been pulling on the lone string.

"But there's something there between you two. I, of course, have known this for a while, but I'm talented like that." She flashes a beautiful smile before it fades slightly. "This doesn't make you a bad person."

She pulls away and grabs for an eggroll. "Besides, if the roles were reversed, you _know_ that Raven would do it in a heartbeat. The only difference is that she'd have no regard for your feelings at all."

"Yeah?" For some reason I feel better about hearing this. It does fit the "Clarke and Raven" dynamic: I give, she takes. If I had a man she _really_ wanted, would she take him? Would I let her?

"Yep." She takes a huge bite of the eggroll, frowning. "Damn, you ordered veggie?"

"Just looking out for you, O."

"Aww," she whines through a full mouth, and I can't help but laugh.

I watch her eat the rest of the eggroll before asking. "So what's the deal with you and Jasper?"

She chews thoughtfully before swallowing and taking a sip of water. I can tell she's trying to play coy, but I know the need to talk to someone will win out.

Luckily, it happens in the next two minutes.

"He called me the other day," she says, biting her lip to stop from smiling.

I laugh at her attempt. "It's okay to be happy, O."

She lets out a dramatic sigh, taking another sip of water. "Okay, he called me the other day, and we ended up talking for a few hours. I swear, I haven't talked on the phone that much since high school." She lets out a soft giggle. "He's taking me out Friday."

"Octavia! That's great. I'm happy for you." My smile fades when hers does. "What's wrong?"

She turns to me with sad eyes. "What am I doing? I leave for LA in three weeks."

I stay quiet, watching her fiddle with her fork. "I mean, I know I'm coming back in September for—" She cuts herself off, giving me a sheepish look. "Well, _maybe._"

"You're coming back in September for you brother's wedding," I finish for her, urging her to continue.

"But then what? He lives here, I live there. Three thousand miles separate us. I love my job there, he loves his job here. I know long-distance relationships don't work. Believe me, I've tried." She bangs her head softly on the table, groaning. "Why did I do this to myself? I knew I was only going to be here for a short time." She picks her head back up. "God, I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," I say, sliding off the chair to meet her on the floor. "You're just a woman that likes a man."

She gives me an _are you serious?_ look and I can't help but bite my lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up. "Look, you haven't even gone on a date with him yet. Just see this through. You never know what'll happen. Besides," I smooth her hair back from her face. "You can't help who you have feelings for."

She gives me a soft smile and nods. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

I glance at my watch. "It's late. Wanna crash here?"

Octavia lets out a long yawn. "If you don't mind?"

"I never mind, O." I push myself off the floor and head to the closet to grab some blankets and pillows for her.

"Clarke."

I turn.

"Thanks for telling me." She looks out the window for a moment, then back to me, smiling. "About Bellamy. You could've lied."

I smile and shake my head. "I can never lie to you."

Suddenly her face crumples for a moment – like she's going to cry – but just as quickly as it appeared it's gone, and she's smiling again. With record speed she pulls herself off the floor and rushes to me, giving me a big hug, the blanket and pillow crushed between us.

"I love you, Clarke," she whispers, squeezing harder.

I return her hug with a lump lodged in my throat. Squeezing my eyes to stop the tears, I manage to get out an "I love you, too" before pulling back, my eyes clear.

* * *

**A/N: **Don't worry, there _is_ a reason for Octavia's behavior. You know, in case you wondering why she seems a little too chill with the whole situation...

Coming up: The infamous Fourth of July weekend! I need to polish off the end of the chapter I'm working on, but originally I had Clarke and Bellamy's weekend split into two chapters because it went waaay longer than expected. BUT! I decided to put them together because A) I shouldn't split them up, for flow purposes, and B) you all have been so patient and wonderful with me, and I've been slacking on my updating because of school being super crazy, so it's like an end-of-term present for me, but to YOU!

If that, at all, makes sense.


End file.
